Toward Twilight
by kujikiri21
Summary: The Chamber had consequences that no one expected, changing him. Hunted like a dog by the British Ministry, Harry battles, growing strong. But beneath that strength seeks a place of peace, to live and love, but knows that such a place does not exist for one such as he. This quest is one that delves into the depths of Yami, and ascends to Heaven, towards Twilight. Nonhuman!Harry.
1. Chapter 1

Towards Twilight

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Kenichi the Mightiest Disciple

Prologue

* * *

"Ah, welcome back, Shirahama," Yasunaga-sensei said, raising a mildly surprised brow at the long absent, but now returning, student, "I take it that you are fully recovered from your illness, now?"

Kenichi Shirahama bowed slightly, hiding a sheepish expression, "Yes, sir," he responded respectfully.

"Take your seat then," the teacher, waving vaguely toward the suddenly hushed class, before the teacher's glasses flashed menacingly, "and I will expect the make up work Furinji-san has kindly been able to deliver to you, completed, at the end of class. Is that understood?"

Kenichi winced inwardly as he wordlessly nodded before taking his seat quietly. As damaged as he had been by Ryuuto aka Odin, he had been laid up in Ryozanpaku for about a month, taking foul medicines from Kensei Ma, Master of all Chinese Martial Arts, and painful therapy from another of his masters Akisame Koetsuji, the Philosophical Jujutsu Master, in order to heal.

To be fair, if he had been treated in a more modern institute, it would have taken him much much longer to recover, if he even could.

But some of the remedies had had effects of his mind. He was pretty sure seeing purple giraffes dressed in lycra in a break dancing battle with green wolves in pink petticoats wasn't normal.

It had also seemed that he had done some of his make up work while in such a state.

He couldn't help but shudder at the thought of some of the answers he had probably written down, and the possible- _probable_- resulting consequences.

_Still_, he thought, _possible detention is a small price to pay for being mobile again._

Kenichi Shirahama thought back about the past few months, when he had been first introduced to the world of Martial Arts. He had changed since his first days at the dojo, no longer was he a weakling, a weak kneed loser, one who only lived to be a punching bag for bullies.

He absently worked his fists in wonder, stretching the fingers in an exercise to keep them nimble, remembering when they were barely able to open a jar of sandwich spreads like jam or honey.

Now, they were able to break stone and bone with equal ease.

He was stronger now, able to hold his own, to stand tall if pressed. As he was now, the regular school bullies and yakuza wannabes in the streets didn't really mean much to him, even in large numbers. If this were another world, he felt he could have been King of the World.

But this was not another world.

When one door closes, another opens.

As strong as he was now, with techniques and abilities that would frustrate conventional modern science, it was nothing compared to what awaited him.

Ragnarok, in the vast scheme of things, was a big fish in a small pond. And outside that tiny, stagnant pond, the ocean lied.

And it was filled with sharks.

Him facing the gang was merely getting his feet wet, a single step into a completely different world. Hidden in the shadows of modern day society, fist and steel still ruled.

And he had barely scratched the surface.

He was drawn from his musings by the loud ringing of the bell, indicating the start of class and of the school day.

"Good morning, class," the teacher said promptly, "before we get into our work today, there are a few announcements to make. First, I would like for all of you to welcome back from an extended illness, your classmate, Kenichi Shirahama," the teacher smiled slightly at the now flustered young man, "it is good to see you back, young man."

Kenichi couldn't help but flush in embarrassment as the round of polite and quiet applause rang out from all the students present. He wasn't really used to this type of praise, even with how mechanical it was. He was used to being ignored, not put on the spot like this and singled out.

...except when it came down to fighting anyway. Crazy masters and insane gangs.

"Second," continued the history teacher as he walked toward the door of a small office that was connected to the classroom, generally where the teachers stored text books and such instead of hauling them around to every classroom they visited. Kenichi's eyes blinked slightly as he saw shadows through the rippled and clouded glass. Even with the distortions, he could easily determine the outline of a humanoid figure.

_Who is in there?_, he wondered as the teacher laid a hand on the metal doorknob, _and Why?_

"This class has the honour of receiving two new students," Yasunaga-sensei said with a small smile, "they are both of them are also new to the area and are unfamiliar with the surroundings. Please keep this in mind and help them as best you can when the circumstances require it," he then twisted the knob and opened the door toward himself, stepping back to avoid being squashed into the wall, revealing a sight of the new students.

And what a sight it was.

The entirety of the male gender in the class, and secretly a number of the girls, almost had their eyes bulge out in surprise and shock at what they saw (though with the males, something else also _bulged_ out. A great many sent prayers of gratitude for the desks that hid their primal reaction).

Moving with a grace that seemed like she was dancing, a tall young woman, about an inch above a rather startled Miu, who wasn't a small woman by any means, entered the classroom first. Her long ivory hair fell like a curtain of white silk across well formed shoulders and very buxom chest and her eyes, flicking from student to student as if judging each of them in a split second, lingering on Kenichi for a moment, longer on Miu, and narrowing as they locked on Niijima, were detached and cool and aloof, like pools of gold or amber, in a pale face that was both sharp and soft somehow, creating the well desired heart shape that many females aspired to. Kenichi also noticed her hands, in particular her nails, seemed disproportionately long in comparison to the rest of her form. It was barely noticeable, if he hadn't had the training he had he probably wouldn't have picked it up, but it was there.

Put all together, she was the picture of a predator, a magnificent raptor of the skies, perched and patiently waiting for the proper time to strike, silent, swift and deadly, which was enhanced by her well toned legs that seemed to go on forever. Despite this dangerous form, or perhaps because of it, the boys of the class seemed drawn to her, moths to her cold flame, as the sight before hammered deep into their primal brains, something that was always close to the surface of hormonal male teens, and triggered their equally primal desires.

Though the tight uniform and well endowed figure probably helped. A lot.

Despite his attraction to Miu, Kenichi couldn't help but find this foreign beauty, her features were clearly not Asian but strangely Kenichi was unable to place the exact range of ethnicity (it was almost like her features were an odd combination of various ethnic groups, but they seemed to blend too well together for that.), quite beautiful. But it was because of his attraction to the granddaughter of the Elder that he was able to pull his focus away from those golden eyes and pendulous breasts, unlike most.

Then, as she passed the sensei, heading towards the front to stand in front of the blackboard, the other student was revealed. This time, it was the girl's turn to have their heads spin and hearts thump wildly.

In a word, the revealed student was an Adonis.

Possibly a shade under six feet, his night black hair short and ruffled, wild and untamed veiled nothing from view, his vivid emerald eyes seeming to shine an inner, an intensity and focus that was almost laser-like. Noble features and moon kissed skin, to the girls in the class, his face alone, even calm and impassive as it was, seemed to be enough for them to lose their minds, their seemed to turn into hearts. But that was not all he had.

His uniform seemed to almost be a darker colour, clinging to him like a second skin. Kenichi could almost see the outline of every muscle beneath the tight cloth. The powerful v-cut torso and a clear pack of abdominals, six or eight Kenichi wasn't sure as they were hidden in the few loose folds of the shirt and jacket he wore. This caused the girls to almost drool in their seats in desire, Miu, much to the disciple's thanks, being a noted exception.

But that still wasn't all.

Kenichi couldn't help but be on edge as the new student moved. Every step was carefully placed and measured, perfectly silent, seeming without an iota of thought, by instinct alone, as he ignored the rest of the class to join his companion at the front of the board. With the dark clothes, visibly flowing muscles and perfect grace, Kenichi couldn't help but be reminded of the big cats, panthers, that he had seen in a zoo when he was younger. He remembered the grace and danger they exuded, a seductive, dangerous, darkness that drew him in as they moved like liquid shadow.

This same darkness came off this mysterious new student in almost palpable waves, a song of darkness, delight and temptation, a forbidden fruit.

Again, just like the boys to the amber eyed girl, the girls in the class seemed drawn to the green eyed boy. That at least was a little understandable, girls in general seemed attracted to the bad or dark boys.

Kenichi figured you couldn't get much darker than this young man.

He was also just as happy that Miu also showed caution, her eyes were narrowed behind her glasses, taking a measuring look he had only seen her do with Odin, an acknowledgement of the other's power and skill. Considering she had more experience and much better senses than he, it was very probable that she had picked up on something about both of these two that he had not.

By the way he felt a heaviness in his stomach, he had a feeling he would dreading Miu-chan's revelations.

A scrape of a chair drew his attention as the two began writing their names on the chalkboard. A glance showed that the noise came from near the back, from a seat belonging to a certain conniving, duplicitous, manipulative demonic alien.

Kenichi shrugged slightly to himself, turning back to the front. The demon was probably just adjusting himself, like many of the other students were, in order to hide their..._reactions_ to the two that had entered. Which reminded him...

Kenichi shifted slightly in his seat, easing some pressure. He may have been able to take his focus off of the beautiful ivory haired girl, but that didn't he wasn't prone to normal hormonal reactions of a teenage boy.

_Click. Click._

His head was drawn back to the front as the soft but sharp sound of chalk returning to it's place at the ledge beneath the board itself struck his ears, indicating that these two strangers had finished their writing.

"Greetings," the female went first, her voice just as cool as her expression, completely empty of anything resembling emotion. At the same time, while it was precise, it was not mechanical, still retaining an aspect to it that connected it to humanity. "I am Hana Yosamu," she bowed with an almost inhuman elegance, her calm expression never changing a whit, not even to smile, "I am in your care. Please treat me kindly."

Kenichi's eye twitched for a moment as he heard the stirring amongst some of, '_most of'_ if he was honest, the males in the class, a quick glance revealing their goofy and drooling expressions. Yosamu-san wouldn't have any problem being treated '_kindly_' by the boys. The amount of flesh that they were able to see when she bowed had ensured that.

Kenichi's thoughts were choked off by a palpable wave of menace, one so powerful that it hit him like a physical blow. Out of the corner of his eye, he could even see Miu reel back as if slapped, her eyes now wide in shock and, much to his increasing fear and terror, what seemed to be trepidation.

The entire class, even the teacher, had all reeled back, expressions of fear covering their faces as they fought to reconcile what they were feeling, confused and scared that they could see nothing that could, in their minds, conceivably make them feel this way.

It should be noted that Yosamu-san didn't even react at all, as if she didn't even feel the mind blowing, bowel loosening terror, her expression not changing at all.

Kenichi, fighting through the mental pressure, was able to see the cause of this wave of primal anger, a predator staring down it's prey, paralysing them with fear, as he smiled slightly, his green eyes glinting.

"And I am Hakimaru Kurogane," the frightening young man said with a polite bow, his manner at complete odds to the aura he gave off, "Please treat me kindly."

If he wasn't frozen to his seat in terror, Kenichi would have snorted. In clear comparison to his companion, instead of fetching elegance making others feel like helping her, this man's aura of terror would guarantee that everyone would either avoid him like the plague or, if forced into his sphere of influence, make them bow to his request. They wouldn't dare try to defy him.

Kenichi, and the class, was finally able to breathe again as the aura suddenly disappeared, as if it was never there in the first place, letting everyone recover. Green eyes glinted fiercely again, hidden behind a calm and polite smile.

"Y-yes," the teacher stuttered slightly, before finally recovering with a small cough, ignoring the line of sweat on his hairless dome, "well, thank you for the introduction," his eyes, still a little wide and wild, scanned the room. Kenichi had a sudden sinking feeling in his gut as his eyes stopped on him. A glance to either side from the Shirahama scion made that feeling sink deeper, "if you would each take the empty seats on either side of Shirahama-san, we can then begin our lesson."

Kenichi wanted to cringe, but held himself masterfully to an almost imperceptible twinge/wince.

_Eeeeeeeh_! He squeaked in his mind as the terrifying duo made their way to him, those in their way as they walked down the aisle shifting away from them on instinct, the long buried and almost atrophied portions of their primal mind screaming at them to do so. _Don't come over heeeeeeere!_ He inwardly wailed.

Even as he belaboured his own bad luck and lack of good in his life, he barely noticed the odd positioning of the pair. The way that the white haired girl seemed to want to halt and let the boy pass, the way that the boy seemed to hover close to the girl in the few strides they took, placing himself closer to her than strangers normally would.

Silently, they took their seats on either side of the young Disciple, ignoring his existence entirely, focusing on the teacher as he began his lesson, not wasting any of his precious time.

Kenichi couldn't help but grateful for that as he tried to focus on the work Yasunaga-sensei was providing. These two scared him more than the depths of Yomi, so he really _didn't_ want to attract their attention. Not until he could have a talk with Miu-chan anyway.

As he quickly focused on his work, he was unaware of the subtly narrowed eyes of Kurogane focusing on him for a moment before glancing at his companion with a small, unseen, nod of his head.

* * *

"What have I done to deserve this?!" Kenichi heard as he and Miu walked into the former Physics classroom that was now the 'headquarters' for the Shinpaku Alliance. The voice was almost a wail but was clearly identifiable by the pair.

"A better question would be what you haven't done, you stupid Alien," Kenichi growled lowly, glaring at a wailing, prostrate and seeming terrified Haruo Niijima, resident manipulative demon and evil alien, co-founder of the Shinpaku Alliance and all around disreputable person.

And also someone that Kenichi, sadly, called 'friend'.

For a given value of friend, anyway.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, launching to his feet and pointing a clawed finger in the face of the disciple martial artist, "I may be evil, and I say it with great pride, but last I checked there is a difference between thought and deed," he was suddenly shivering, scared and tearful, "this guy doesn't really differentiate between the two."

"What are you on about, ya weirdo?" A voice growled, making the residents of Ryozanpaku look to the source.

"Ever since school let out, ya've been wailing and running around like a mad chicken," Ikki Takeda, a boxer who was a former enemy and now friend and recruit for the Alliance after Kenichi had introduced him to Akisame-sensei who had been able to repair a career ending and crippling injury. Beside him, still on crutches, stood the massive Kozo Ukita, a judoist who was also an enemy turned friend, frowning at the alien through his signature shades, "for those who have yet ta understand that twisted morass of a mind of yours, could ya explain things a little more?" The blue-haired boxer finally seemed to notice the pair, "Good ta see ya on your feet, Kenichi," he said with a quick grin, "ya lookin' better than us, ya damn monster. You have some sorta healing factor or what?"

"Nope," Kenichi shook his head in denial, "just good masters," he smiled back at the former fighters from Ragnarok, "good to see you guys too," he said nodding at Ukita as well and receiving a quick thumbs up.

The heart warming moment was quickly broken by the renewed wails of the Alien/Demon.

"Will ya quit it!" Takeda barked, a fist flicking out in a lightning jab to the Demon, weak enough not to hurt (much) but enough to shut him up.

As always, the demon's inhuman dodging skills allowed him to avoid any contact, his body bending like a serpent to avoid the strike. It had still managed to accomplish it's task though.

"But it's terrible," bemoaned Niijima, "my plans, my ideas, my desires. They are all in ruins. All because of a single being."

Kenichi could feel himself developing a migraine. Dealing with the Demon Lord, as coined by Siegfried, was trying at the best of times. A disconsolate and tearing one seemed to be even worse. Taking a deep breath, he mastered his irritation as he decided to try and get some straight answers from the twisted co-founder.

"Enough already, Niijima," he sighed, "look, just give us a straight answer. I know you well enough that you wouldn't act like this unless something big came up. So out with it," his eyes pierced the slippery manipulator, "What. Is. Wrong?"

The response he received wasn't what he was expecting

"You were there in class and you can't figure out what's wrong?!" Niijima said incredulously, "Did you not feel the fear that guy inspired?"

Kenichi blinked. Niijima was talking about Kurogane? Why would he do that? Kenichi's narrowed in thought. The way the demon was acting was at odds with what he knew of the manipulator. It wasn't like him to simply give up. Normally, he would just try to twist the situation to his advantage, finding the proverbial silver lining and mastering it to the point of using it to disperse the clouds.

Not to mention, judging by the reaction, he seemed to already have knowledge on the new student. More knowledge than he should. Does he know of Hakimaru Kurogane from somewhere? And how?

His musings were interrupted by a knocking on the door.

_Strange_, he thought as one of the non-combatant alliance members opened the door, _Why would someone visit the Alli-_ his thoughts were cut off as one of the last people he expected to arrive entered.

"Thank you," an amber-eyed beauty by the name of Hana Yosamu said to the now slightly blushing member. Those yellow eyes scanned the room as she spoke, "I take it this is the Headquarters of the known Shinpaku Alliance?" She asked cooly.

Kenichi couldn't help but shiver at the tone. It was cold, it was empty and it was determined. Kenichi couldn't help but feel like a mouse before a hungry predator, powerless and awaiting the deathblow.

Unfortunately, someone didn't seem to read between the lines.

"It sure is," Takeda said with a small laugh, his eyes travelling up and down the, admittedly gorgeous, body of the woman, giving her a once over. He obviously liked what he saw but wasn't lecherous enough to keep staring, unlike Ma-sifu would have, "anything we can help you with?"

Surprisingly, a small smile of appreciation crossed the visage of the woman, flickering and brief, but it was there, and approval shone in her eyes at the boxer. It seemed she appreciated the single once over. Then her eyes returned to an impassive calm, a still lake.

Kenichi thought that a still _river_ may be more appropriate. 'Still rivers run deep', after all. And there was definitely more to this woman than what she showed on the surface.

"You, no," she informed, much to the boxer's visible disappointment, before her long nailed finger pointed beyond him, "_him_, yes."

"Damn," whispered the fingered individual, his pointy ears twitching from where he had just opened a window and was attempting to climb out, "so close."

"Not particularly," Yosamu's clipped voice corrected Niijima as he sullenly, skittishly, pulled himself back in and started closing the window, "have a look," she gestured out the window.

Kenichi sat back, unconsciously holding on to a confused and agitated Miu, and observed along with the rest of the Alliance. Haruo's explanation had been cut short, maybe this could give some answers.

The Demon looked out the window, no doubt scanning the surroundings at the behest of the silver-haired beauty.

Everyone was quick to see when he saw something, his skin paling and starting to sweat heavily.

Kenichi didn't know what Niijima had seen, but it clearly scared the living wits out of him.

"I take it you understand the current situation now?" Yosamu said calmly, sounding more like a businesswoman, one in negotiation and knew she had the upper hand.

Tired of being confused, one of the non-fighter members moved toward the woman, clearly wanting answers and wasn't afraid to ruffle a few bird's feathers.

"Oi!" The member said, reaching out for Yosamu, "what the hel-"

"Don't!" Niijima cried out, his voice frantic as he seemed to try and stop his subordinate.

His warning came too late.

In blur that Kenichi couldn't even see, the distant woman's hand lashed out. Once. Twice. And then gripped the throat of the member tightly.

Kenichi was immediately on his feet, taking a defensive posture, even as the other fighters also reacted. Miu's own stance taken as she looked at the amber-eyed girl intently, ready to move at a moments notice. Takeda also readied himself, but was slowed by his unhealed injuries. Ukita, the only other fighter there, but was also too injured to fight seriously, especially against someone that fast and obviously powerful, tried to calm things down.

Ukita was a little like himself in that respect. Each of them had a mutual dislike of fighting girls. Though Kenichi would fully admit that Ukita would do so if push came to shove. He, on the other hand, would never raise a hand to a woman, not even in battle.

It was one of the reasons he got thrashed by Kisara, and Freya's Valkyries, but he refused to change his resolve, his vow.

It was both a source of pride, for determinedly keeping his vow, and frustration, because it was an outdated concept and placed him at a severe disadvantage, for the Masters at Ryozanpaku.

"Hey, Hey!" Ukita said, waving his arms in a gesture to stop, "how about we all calm down now," he looked at detached Yosamu, who held the now limp member off his feet by his throat, her fingers practically claws as they gripped his larynx tightly. Kenichi could marks as her nails dug into the idiot's flesh. It would take just a twitch of the wrist and the choking fool would be dead by either a broken neck or by suffocation and exsanguination as she tore out the trachea out of his throat in a cloud of gore, ripping through the arteries and the oesophagus as a bloody bonus. "Ma'am, please put him down. He maybe an idiot, and I apologise for that, but he hasn't done any harm." He pleaded slightly.

"He tried to touch me," her voice was winter, cloud and dark, her eyes were fierce and detached, looking at an insect that had dared to bite and considering the worth of it's life. Kenichi felt a chill of fear. Those eyes were close, almost the _exact same_, to the ones Sougetsu Ma had.

This girl was no stranger to death, having witnessed it, having wrought it.

"No one but _He_ touches me," she continued, observing as the fool began turning purple, "No one. On pain of death."

Kenichi floundered as he tried to think of a plan. She had shown exceptional speed and was now _embodying_ ruthlessness. All of the fighters were in line of sight, so she couldn't get snuck up on, and he doubted even Miu would be fast enough to get the dangling fool from the girl's clutches before she reacted and probably killed the idiot, she would have done something by now if she could. He couldn't see anyway out of this.

For all his skills, his learned abilities, for all his strength, there was nothing he could do.

So much for being the Ryozanpaku's Disciple.

It was then an unlikely source intervened.

"Enough," Niijima's voice cut through the tension, drawing attention to him, his face strained and troubled and harsh, "you've made your point, Yosamu, let him go."

Kenichi, hell everyone, blinked at the words and the manner in which the Alien gave them. It was completely unlike the usual conniving and scheming of the Niijima that they knew. It was quite intimidating actually.

Hana Yosamu only tilted her head, golden eyes narrowing slightly, still gripping the fool tightly but otherwise ignoring him, her arm not even shivering as she held the idiot off the ground. She seemed to examine Niijima, looking for something, "do I have your oath that he will not attempt to touch me again? That none of you will strike out at myself after I release him?" She asked.

"You do," he answered without hesitation, looking her directly in the eyes.

Kenichi was startled, the others not far behind. Niijima had just given an oath. What the hell was the world coming to that the deceiver, the liar, the Demonic Alien made what seemed to be a sincere oath?

Yosamu's eyes narrowed a little more, before she suddenly let go of the fool, letting him slump to the floor, much to everyone's relief.

The fool scrambled back awkwardly from the devil woman, his arms not seeming to work, and didn't stop until his back hit the wall, his eyes wide in abject fear as he tried to regain his breath.

The tension lessened in the room, everyone eyeing the intruder and dangerous woman apprehensively, even as she drew a handkerchief from her pocket and began to meticulously clean her hand, the one she had gripped the idiot by.

"I hope you have learned your lesson," she said idly, tucking away her the square of cloth, "it will be your only one," her eyes glinted hard, "you will not survive the next," golden orbs glided over everyone within the room, "any of you."

Kenichi knew she wasn't joking.

"Lets get down to business then," Niijima said with a small sigh, as if resigned, grimacing, "what do you want?"

Kenichi stared. Niijima, having seen what this woman could do, was still going to deal with her!?

Kenichi's disbelief was voiced loudly, but not by him.

"What the hell?!" Takeda yelled, his eyes wide and somewhere between angry and, dare he say, scared, "are you crazy, you damned Alien?!" He demanded, "did you not see-!" He was cut off.

"Takeda!" Niijima barked, his voice low and dark, almost hissing, making the boxer halt in his tirade, startled at the manipulator's command, "be quiet," he said lowly, locking eyes with the pugilist, "your will to protect your comrade is commendable, but it is currently misplaced at this point in time," his demonic slitted eyes, black as night, moved towards the awkward fool who had tried to, foolishly, touch the gorgeous woman, who looked at the ensuing confrontation with a raised brow and a tilted head, curious, "this _idiot_ attempted what could be construed as assault in a court of law," his words stung like a lash, verbally flaying the said wincing idiot, "let the professionals deal with this instead of making it worse."

"Worse?" Spluttered Ukita, "how could it get much worse than one of our own dangling like a criminal in a noose?"

"He could be dead," the woman surprisingly answered, her voice now thoughtful as her eyes looked at Niijima, "I have done worse for far less," her eyes narrowed slightly, "do you wish to move this to a more..._private_ setting?" She asked.

Kenichi's eyes narrowed slightly. He was missing something, something big. Niijima's actions were no his normal modus operandi. Secrets within secrets, that was the name of the game here. He had a feeling that what was being said was only the tip of the iceberg. There was a massive subtext that he wasn't able to figure out.

"No way in hell!" Growled the banner bearer Matsui as he stood beside Niijima, "like hell I'm gonna let some sadistic bitch near the General!"

"Matsui," Niijima said, clapping a hand on the boy's shoulder, "calm down."

"But-," Matsui began, turning to his general, before he was steamrolled over.

"This is between me and her," Niijima went on, "the only reason she even came here is because she was looking me, Haruo Niijima, not Haruo Niijima, General of the Shinpaku Alliance," he looked at the still calm looking Yosamu, "is that not correct?"

Her response was a calm nod, "the activities of this...'_Alliance_' are of no concern to _Him_ or to me at this point in time. My business is with you, not your subordinates."

"Very well then," Niijima said with a nod, brushing by a still Matsui to stand in front of the clearly dangerous woman, "I then accept your offer of a private conference. The next room over should be empty and has a few facilities for us to discuss issues in comfort. If you would please follow me?"

As the strange pair left the HQ, Kenichi was confused whether he should relax or stay alert. It was obvious that this whole debacle had exploded from a simple discussion to almost an all out fight. Thankfully, and he had never thought he would say that, Niijima was able to defuse the situation. But it still left a few questions that had the Disciple of Ryozanpaku unsure.

This woman was clearly a high level martial artist, though he was unsure _exactly_ how high. After he had barely seen her move, he could clearly say her speed and skill were above his own, a Disciple of Ryozanpaku. That alone had him on edge. Ever since he had joined the renowned dojo and faced some of the members of Ragnarok, high level martial artists seemed to have come out of the woodwork in order to take his head.

The fact that this woman seemed to no even care less about him, unless he tried to attack or touch her, gave him a measure of relief, a glimmer of hope that his life could perhaps return to normal.

That said, he knew he wasn't that lucky, and was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

That in turn brought up a set of questions he would no doubt be dwelling on for days: Who exactly was Hana Yosamu? And what did she need the Demon for?

* * *

The one known as Hana Yosamu was quite pleased as she left the school grounds.

Her rather heavy negotiations with the Niijima boy had borne some precious fruit. Though she had to give to reveal a few trumps and make a few concessions in order to get what was needed, and a few things she wanted, but were not necessary, from the little Demon.

Her lips curved as she allowed herself a satisfied smirk. If only the rest of the school populace knew how accurate they were with their description of Haruo Niijima. She had to commend the young hanyou on his ruse. Hiding in plain sight is a wonderful and intelligent ploy.

Though she might be slightly biased, considering it was the ploy that she and He also used. Furthermore, it had been his idea to do so. So it was the best idea they had at the time, the only viable idea. She couldn't really truly contribute to the planning stage at that time, not in the condition she was in.

She had just passed the school gates when she paused, the shadows growing long in the dusk, hiding many things in darkness that would normally be seen in the light of day.

"The meeting went well, Master," Hana said to seeming empty air, not turning around.

The air seemed to still for a moment, the wind disappearing. A heavy presence suddenly appeared in the area, a great weight pressing down on any living thing within range, making them bow, making them submit to the awesome force that had suddenly arisen.

All save the figure of Hana Yosamu, whose normally cold face had relaxed, an expression of rapturous joy filling her beautiful face as she gloried and revelled in the presence of her most precious person, the one whose heart beat as one with hers. She never failed to find happiness in being by His side and his strength and power, when she stood beside or behind him, never failed to be a support she could lean, a pillar of might that would never fall. It was because of this that she would do anything that he asked of her, a small repayment, however meagre it was in her mind, for all that he had done for her.

"O ho ho," an disembodied voice said, seeming to be everywhere at once. The wind suddenly picking up again it slightly different manner, flowing around the golden eyed female, touching her, caressing her, as it danced to a tune not it's own, "That is quite a change," the voice said amusedly, "generally it takes a few deaths and a show of force to get them on board."

"The community here is very small," Hana explained, glorying in her partner's indirect caress as the breeze passed over her body, tickling spots that she knew He knew were sensitive, making her want to giggle, "a few legacies and spawn, even a pure strain clan that has been here for over three centuries, but that is about it. No mahoutsukai have been here for over a decade...at least not permanently."

"A good place to put down some roots then," the wind whispered in her ear, making her shiver in quiet delight, "Wakoku may not officially ascribe to the ICW rulings, like most of the Asian nations, but they also won't prevent any idiot that has managed to track me and passed their checkpoints from knocking me out and dragging me away, so long as they don't interfere with the locals."

Those beautiful amber eyes hardened at the comment that came down from the sky, "they will do so over my bleeding corpse and shattered soul," she screeched lowly, a raptor on a hunt. She would not let any blood rotten, black hearted, ignorant excuse for a Britannian lay their filthy hands, devoid of innocence and stained crimson with the blood upon them, on her partner. She would craft a mound of skulls rivalling Cygnus from all who dared to try.

She would not be separated from _Him. **Ever**._

The wind spun wilder, practically massaging her tensed muscles where she stood in an effort to relax her in some way. It only succeeded in a minor manner. "I have no doubt," the air responded, wryly amused. She felt an invisible stroke along her cheek, making her want to moan with desire, but managed to hold herself upright and stay standing, "Such a bloodthirsty valkyrie you are," the voice hummed before it chuckled, the air rippling along with her clothes.

"Only for you," she whispered back, her nailed fingers seeking to grasp the wind, a futile attempt to pull close a person that wasn't even there. At least no physically.

"The resident clan," the voice said abruptly, changing the subject, even as the applied pressure, as if pulling her into it's protective and loving embrace, which was welcomed by the white haired beauty, "what are they?"

"Cats," she responded, a slight scowl on her face. She wasn't really fond of the adaptable predators. Her hands flexed like talons, as if desiring to grasp and maul one of the creatures. They were too sly, too opportunistic, willing to change sides at a moments notice. She would also say that they were too sadistic, glorying in the power that they held over those weaker than them, playing with them until they were bored and then ending it, permanently.

But she wasn't that much of a hypocrite. She too gloried in her power and loved, not to show off, but prove to the world that she wasn't someone, something, to be messed with. Girl power and all that.

She smirked to herself as she tried to rub herself against the wind. There were somethings that were above even the barriers of race, colour, creed or even species. Her lips, full and red, then scowled.

She may not be able to throw stones at the felines in regards to sadism, but she was more than willing to toss boulders at them in regards to their promiscuity. Every one that she had met had seemed to driven by their loins rather than their heads, willing to lay on their backs for anyone, man or woman. If that was all they did, then she may got along with them fine, she could fully understand the drive to satisfy one's more carnal desires, even if she would have been disapproving of they way they fulfilled them.

No, if she was honest with herself, it was the way they threw themselves at Him, shameless and with complete abandon.

She could see why they would. He gave off the presence of power and grace, of strength and speed, of an unflinching will that could carve their own destiny in life. His features also contributed, a handsome face, but showing a rugged realness that most movie stars and such didn't have in their obsession for false perfection. A body that screamed power, every piece of flesh, bone and sinew crafted for the sole purpose of battle, ready to defend what he claimed as his and destroy his foes with equal ease.

He was an Alpha, one that was bonded to her, and these flea bitten whores wanted to take that from her.

It made her nails itch, desiring to sink themselves into tabby coloured fur and rip the flesh and bone beneath it. _He_ was **Hers**. _She_ was **His**. When both were at the bottom, among the very dregs of their lives, all they had was each other. Nothing will come between that fierce partnership. Not without one hell of a fight.

She honestly wouldn't be so willing to open their guts to the air if they were more considerate. She wasn't exactly averse to sharing his bed with another of her gender, his stamina would practically make that a necessity.

(She could tell that much, despite the, technically, virgin status of the two of them. She shuddered and shivered in remembered pleasure and ecstasy at the memory of a few nights when the hadn't slept at all. She had been completely exhausted the next day but He had been fresh as a daisy and more then willing for another round.)

Not to mention she was rather drawn to the female gender herself. Something about the way they smelled, the way they moved, seemed to trigger something deep within her, a burning hunger that she generally only had when she was in His presence. It was something she thought originated from the Transfer but it was hardly something that she found at all displeasing. The thought of being pressed between a plane of hard muscle and soft, succulent, flesh had occupied her mind more than a few times on lonely nights when He had to do some business where she was unable to follow.

What really pissed her off was the selfishness of the felines she had met, wanting to have their way with Him and ignore her, his bondsmate, completely, as if she were little more than trash.

Fuck. That.

"Hmm," the bodiless voice mused, seeing to hum in her ear and draw her back to the present, thoughts of anger towards felines slowly disappearing in the wake of His presence and lingering, draughty, touch, "we may have to look into and make a deal with them," he thought aloud, "as long as they have been here, they may not appreciate someone moving onto their turf. Especially one in my circumstances."

She scowled to herself. Damn, cats ruin all her fun. Still, that dislike didn't keep her from seeing the reality of the situation that they found themselves in.

" I have already anticipated that," she said, reluctantly removing herself from the embrace of the atmospheric phenomenon, and dug around into her pocket, removing a folded scrap of paper, "this had their address, number and a name and description of the current elder. A senri."

The wind surged, ruffling her hair, and tore the paper from her grasp, sending it whirling and wheeling into the sky. She didn't bother chasing it; the wind would guide it to the proper destination.

"You know me too well," the voice chuckled, "I'll give her a call tomorrow and organise a sit down. Hopefully, everything should go smoothly. I get along fairly well with their kin, they shouldn't be much different."

_I wonder why?_ she thought sarcastically in the privacy of her own mind, but kept her peace. As strong and powerful as He was, He sometimes missed the more elemental aspects of social interaction. He would probably still be treating her as a sister or a very close friend if she hadn't hammered her thoughts about him into his slightly obtuse head with a toe-curling kiss after ambushing him, completely bare of clothes and lingerie, in his own room at their residence in France. That night still gave her shivers of delight.

She firmly blamed the Bleached Whale, Purple Walrus and Wrinkled Horse for that. They were not fit to be called human, let alone have names or even to breathe the same air as Him. And the horrors that they had subjected Him to when he was younger, when he was defenceless...

If they weren't already dead, she would have killed them herself.

"And what about your business, Master?" she said, derailing her thoughts before her hatred of the deceased mongrels smothered her in their burning clutches, "Has your goal been achieved?"

"Yes," the voice murmured as it seemed to caress the nape of her neck, the localised gale-storm drawing her into an embrace again, "I will meet you at the apartment. Everything is already packed and stowed away. I will lead you to our new home when you arrive."

Hana Yosamu smiled deeply. It had been a long time since the tow of them had had a real home. Spending the last few years on the run, searching for information and artefacts while also dodging Ministry goons, aka Hit-Wizards, and Hunters looking for a quick paycheck, had left them with precious little time, or even the chance, to set down roots, to rest and relax and enjoy a more domestic setting.

A place for her to roost, to craft a nest.

"And the other matter?" She asked, slightly distracted by the thoughts of silver-haired children with slitted green eyes mixed with others of dark hair with golden eyes.

"There are...clues," the voice ventured, picking it's words, "the Scroll is most definitely somewhere in the Asia. It will be a matter asking the right people, the right questions and seeking out the correct places. Time will be required, but that is one of things we have plenty of," the air then stirred more, a little wild as it reacted to it's master's agitation, "the Spear though... that is another matter entirely. The fact that we even know that it existed in the first place, pulled together from a thousand different scraps of hidden knowledge from all around the world, is a damned miracle. And that's only because we know the Scroll is real!"

The sky seemed to turn darker than it already was as the wind blew harshly and the presence of Him, transmitted over the distance between them, grew stronger and the weight of doom in the air increased.

"Be calm, Master," Yosamu said quietly, against the wind, "there is no need for the agitation. What will come, will come. Just be patient."

The wind slowly died down as His presence slowly ebbed, lessening as he reeled in his emotions.

The air 'breathed' deeply, the sobering breath of an angry god, as her Master got himself under control, wherever he was at that moment.

He really be just about anywhere. With his raw speed, he could travel distances that many would deem impossible in the blink of an eye. Add in the tricks he had been forced to develop while on the run and unable to use mahoutsukai techniques due to the Change and Transfer, and being completely out of town was possible. He could be even further away if he hadn't lingered at the school in order to prevent the hanyou from rabbiting.

It was because of his link to her, his first real gift in the times Before, and the sheer power he had, that he was able to weave the wind to his will despite the large distance she could feel between them.

Her Master was truly something else.

"Make your way to the place we rented," the voice sighed calmly, "the day has been too different than many we have been through over the years to be entirely comfortable," the wind seemed to almost shrug, if she could such a human movement to the element, "it took just about everything I had to prevent myself from lashing out at some of the students. I have lived too many years on the edge and built up far too much necessary paranoia to be entirely safe around innocent children. Ones that have no idea of the what dwells behind the mists and in the shadows," the wind spun around her lightly, pressing against in a light hug, "it must have been even worse for you, especially considering your instincts and what you were Before."

Hana Yosamu didn't say a word as she accepted her Master's gentle windy embrace. Everything he said was true. Despite what she looked like, the experiences she had...well, _experienced_, at the core of her identity, her thoughts, her views and her instincts were not those of a human. Her old ways still held sway over her, as they should, and backed by a human-like intellect, she was all the more dangerous for it.

In her old form, such a gathering of her own kind would be an indication of competition, a challenge. Oft times, such things devolved into conflicts that ended up being deadly to all involved. It was quite a strain to hold back from striking out at those who came too close, like the fool that had tried to touch her. She had adapted a cold and distant persona in order to prevent such things from happening. Not out of any concern for those around her, she didn't care about them, but to ensure that she did not inconvenience or place her Master in any danger.

She had managed, but it was difficult.

She felt the presence of her master begin to ease and leave, the heaviness in the air and it's paired darkness slowly began to lift as the wind also started to die off. "I will see you soon," the voice, her Master's voice, said, sounding faded and distant, "_Hedwig_."

The last word said, Hana Yosamu, also known as Hedwig, former owl and still familiar to Harry James Potter, also known as Hakimaru Kurogane, felt her Master's presence fade entirely, leaving her alone in front of an empty school.

"And I you, Master Harry," she whispered to the empty night.

A last glance around, looking for any stalkers or fools, and then she still was running, her speed so fast as to be invisible, her steps so silent as to be undetectable, towards the town.

And her awaiting Master.

* * *

well folks, here is another one of my stories. I plan for this one to be one of my gems, one of my diamonds in the rough, so any feedback you can give me, positive or negative, is greatly desired. I also ask that you be forgiving in regards to HSDK-verse. I have not read the stories, nor am I completely familiar with the series, so expect a few trip ups as I craft a masterpiece. I also have little to no background in the martial arts so don't expect much in the way of that either. This whole thing is going to take canon of HSDK, from what little I know, and break it over it's knee. The some of the arcs will stay, some will vanish in a puff of smoke and others will change and original ones arise. This will happen as I familiarise myself with this acclaimed series.

As always, please review, they are the fuel that drives the car of inspiration.


	2. Chapter 2

Towards Twilight

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Kenichi the Mightiest Disciple

AN: Well, here's my new chapter. I honestly hope you guys and girls approve. There, sadly, won't be much in the way of action in this chapter, more social engineering as our dear Protagonist, who whispers on the wind, settles down in his new home, laying groundwork for his further plans. Though there will be a little..._tiff_, at the end of the chapter.

Incidentally, can anyone please tell the name of the **city**, that Kenichi takes place in? Or should I just assume it is the old standby of Tokyo?

Well, enough of my jabbering, on with the shoooooooow!

* * *

"Are you completely sure of this?" Hayato Furinji rumbled, his eyes intent on his granddaughter, Miu, and the disciple of Ryozanpaku, Kenichi Shirahama, after they had explained their day. In particular, the arrival of the two new students, one of which they claimed, and he had no doubt they told the truth, exuded an aura of primal fear, a crushing weight that attacked their souls. Both had been subjected to such presences in the past. Miu, when she was travelling with the Elder and crossed paths with some of the more dangerous people in the world, and more recently Kenichi with Sougetsu Ma and that sly fox, Ogata, and their senses were developed enough to sense such a murderous aura, especially when it was actively used as they had indicated.

Then they had mentioned the confrontation in the Shinpaku Alliance Headquarters with the white haired girl with eyes of golden death.

Both stories had raised a few eyebrows and serious looks from the Elder and the others, the somewhat childish Apachai excluded. It seemed that Yami was crawling out of it's deep, dark hole earlier than they had expected.

"There is no doubt, Grandfather," Miu said softly, troubled, "the girl...she walks with a grace of an assassin, soft, calm and yet sturdy, not disturbing a blade of grass or making a single sound...unless she wants to. She used a Tiger Grasp on the boy's throat, with a single hand, grasping only the trachea, and yet it held him in such a way as to only choke rather tear out the throat, never even splitting the skin. She also used some form of pressure points or nerve strikes to make the boy's arms go limp. She was also quick enough for me to barely be able to see the strikes and gave no indication of attacking before the attack was launched," she frowned slightly, "she had killed before, those attacks are not meant to incapacitate, they were made to kill, she only toned them down enough to not have blood splatter every where," she looked her grandfather dead in the eyes," she is a killer. Her eyes show that."

"No kidding," Kenichi shivered slightly, remembering those detached eyes as they eyed the helpless student dangling from her hand, "there was no malice in her gaze, barely even any anger. It was like," he grasped for a word or phrase that could describe what he had seen in those chilling orbs, "she stood high above, a great bird of prey looking down on an irritating ant, or a mouse. She would have killed him, without a second thought, for disturbing her, believing it just, and not even cared about what happened after," Kenichi frowned himself, "death means nothing to her, it's just a part of her everyday life like eating and breathing for me."

_That was unexpected_, the Elder mused slightly, looking at the young disciple with a gleam of pride, _he may not be the most talented of disciples, and frequently runs away from the dojo when the training is upped, but his sensory skills are slightly impressive. I knew he could have sensed obvious intent, but to see the core of another's nature as easily as he implied?_ The Elder smirked beneath his beard, a slight tip of his lips, _perhaps he is not as untalented as we believed. His heart will take him far if he follows his path...but it has yet to be truly tested. That will have to remedied. Perhaps Akisame's idea will bear fruit._

_But that is for another time._

"Another child lost in the darkness," Akisame mourned, his head bowed, "it is sad to hear that children have been forced to endure such horrors as taking a life. Worse, to do it so often as to be unfeeling, to see life, all life, to be of little value," his eyes burned and his muscles tensed in anger, "no child should have to go through that."

"Well it seems this one has," Sakaki pointed out, his usual cocky smile absent as his face too seemed grim as stone.

"Fu Jow Pai is indeed a rather deadly art," Kensei said solemnly, "one of the many arts that fall under the umbrella of Chin Na. Unless you speak of soft styles, the rest is not made to incapacitate. Grievous wounds, maiming or death are what it is most used for. The Tiger is, after all, a predator, first and foremost."

"Not helping, sifu," growled Kenichi, a dark cloud hanging over his head. He understood what his masters were talking about, but did they really need to belabour the point? The woman was ten different types of crazy, attending his school and was easily enough a practitioner of the art of enough skill to put him in the morgue if she was off a mind to. Fine, let's move on.

Next subject: _How the hell do we deal with her?!_

"It is... strange," Shigure, yet another woman that scared the absolute crap out of the young disciple, said in her own slow manner, "Yami is...usually...more subtle...than this."

"Little lady has a point," grunted the Karate master, sipping a beer that he had on hand, his face still stony, "not to mention it is pretty fast. The fruitcake, Kensei-Ogata-Whatever, only told us a month ago that his little clique was making a move. The shadows can move fast, but they wouldn't have done so like that. Too obvious."

The Elder nodded, his eyes closed in contemplation. As informed by that sly fighter, Yami was indeed moving, whispers carried on the winds between the dojos that followed the Katsujinken. Midnight gatherings of some of the more notorious of those who's life was consumed by the Art, weapons of renown going missing or stolen. Such were the acts of those of Yami, warming themselves up for the inevitable conflict and opposition that they would encounter. But these were all carried out in secret, veiled by the darkness in their hearts and minds. Placing such an obviously powerful and deadly member of their association in a school was a move he hadn't expected to see, not so early in the game.

But only the most well informed of Artists would be able to put this together, the pieces of the puzzle far removed from mainstream communications. Despite this, Elder believed he would have heard of a Yami entering this portion of the fair city they all called home.

A light flicked on inside his head, a possibility occuring to him.

"Perhaps this young woman is not associated with Yami then," mused the Elder as he voiced his thoughts, connections and links snapping into place to create an accurate and plausible theory, "I know not of either child, the young man least of all, but just maybe, the young lady is here for reasons of her own. Not all of those who follow the way of Satsujinken would be associated with Yami, or even wish to be," he reasoned, receiving narrowed eyes and answering nods, "still," he rumbled on, "just because she may not be Yami doesn't mean that she should be kept an eye on. Who knows what the woman is after, or what she would do to get it."

Kenichi grunted for a moment, a realization coming upon him, "She said she wasn't interested in the Shinpaku Alliance," he said, slapping himself on the forehead, "she was after the damned Alien!"

"That confirms my theory then," The Elder nodded sagely, stroking his long beard, "you know little of Yami, your education in the true nature of the underworld of martial arts being limited. Your strange little friend would be of little consequence to them, not even registering on their radar," he then pointed at a dour Kenichi, "_you_, however, are the disciple of Ryozanpaku, a position that comes with responsibility of bearing the title of the 'World's Strongest Disciple'. Many among those in the darkness will seek to challenge you, to defeat you, in order to claim that title," Kenichi eeped as the Elder seemed to fill the room, larger than life, a dark aura of power and command worn around him like a cloak.

_An oni_, he gibbered mentally, frozen still and scared out his mind of the massive older warrior, _He's an oni! A demon out to get me_!

"And it will be up to you to face them!"

Those words more than anything freaked out the normal boy.

"He really needs to man up a little," grunted Sakaki, an eyebrow raised at the now unconscious and frothing boy as he took a swig of his beer. Miu was gently dragging the kid away to his quarters, a little worry and concern on her features. Turning away from the somewhat amusing spectacle, he looked toward the rest of the masters, a little more serious, "so what do you think?"

No one needed to clarify what he meant, their minds were all running close to the same path. Whether or not, and it was leaning towards 'not', this girl was of Yami, she was still a member of the Satsujinken, one that they had little knowledge of. Her youth could explain that, she was most certainly not old enough to be a master of repute, leaving either an expert or a disciple, thus making her an ant not worthy of notice among the giants that resided in the martial world, but it was still concerning to have someone like that so close.

Not to mention none of the masters had missed the description of the incident, the 'He' their disciple, Kenichi, and their granddaughter/niece/sister figure, Miu, had mentioned the golden eyed girl had spoken of. Her Master perhaps? Either way, it implied that she wasn't alone and, with the way Miu had explained it, was (subservient Sakaki supposed but knew it wasn't quite right) _subordinate_ (a much better word) to another, meaning she wasn't the greatest threat.

There was another, hidden and out of sight. An unknown.

Sakaki hated unknowns. They had the habit of popping up when you least expected it, with tricks you had never seen and the ability to use them well.

And this didn't even include the boy who had filled the air with primal fear. Shio was leaning towards him being a lesser threat, maybe a _dou_ user that had trouble controlling his ki, letting Ki surge to the surface when his emotions ran high, but was able to control his physical reactions to lash out, to strike. Fact of the matter was, it had happened before. When one is awakened to their ki, especially _dou_ types, it tended to surge to the surface, a wild horse given free rein, until it was tamed and controlled through mental and spiritual discipline. _Sei_ were generally able to pull this off initially easily enough, the calmness of _Sei_ only helping in such discipline, but _dou_ types, who's excited emotions were like a wild river, were far more difficult to tame. Occasionally, there came along a dou practitioner who's physical discipline overshadowed their own mental and spiritual by such a degree that they were able to halt from _acting_ on their excited emotions and wild spirit to destroy everything around them. Sakaki wasn't sure of the exact workings of it, having never seen or experienced it for himself and wasn't the best of theorists, but he knew it had happened before.

The problem was: how long could the kid hold out?

Sakaki knew that, if this was even what the kid had, he would be running on a clock. Eventually, his dou ki would permeate the body, making it harder for his disciplined body to control, to keep from acting on the aggression that was now a permanent part of him. At some point, the body would be unable to contain and hold back the potent ki, letting it burst out to overwhelm the mind, body and soul, throwing them into a berserk state. He had heard of the carnage that was wrought by such unfortunate souls. Whole villages destroyed as if a tornado had struck and the earth itself had shook apart, and the residents of each torn apart as if by wild animals.

It was a terrifying state, but the aftermath for the person was sometime even more horrible. Some of them never recovered from the berserk state, their anger pushing them to keep going, to keep fighting, to keep destroying, until they had nothing left, their bodies giving out even as their anger still burned. Dying the death of angry beast to their hollow hungry rage.

Others, the more unfortunate in the Karate master's opinion, managed to get themselves out of that state, whether their flagging will managed to overwhelm the ki or by some other manner. They awakened from the crimson haze, unable to remember what happened except a haze of blood, laughing exhaustedly at their freedom, before turning around...

And seeing the carnage they had wrought.

The majority of them committed suicide at that point. The minority still left...became beasts of slaughter, glorying in the carnage and the power they had. In the end, those ones were put down like the mad dogs they were, either in the grave or in the deepest prison one could find.

But that was only _if_ the kid was one of those. Considering that it seemed he was able to turn his fearful aura at seeming will, the kid was likely just a well dressed punk and probably wasn't very happy with being introduced to the class and the staring they did.

Teenagers. Feh! Who can understand them?

"It's too...early to...tell," Shigure said slowly, Touchumaru, who was on her shoulder, nodding gravely in his own mouse like way, "Patience...observe...then decide."

"I agree with Shigure," the philosopher of the masters said with a nod, "this could be a mere isolated incident. The foolish boy merely hit one of her buttons and she reacted," his eyes gleamed slightly, "if she is truly as skilled as implied, then she should be very controlled in her actions."

"Meh," grunted the Karate-ka, "I say leave her be, but keep an eye on her."

"I am more than willing to do so," Kensei grinned slyly, a leer crossing his face.

"Per..vert," Shigure said with small scowl.

"Apa...Apachai agree with Shigure," the childish Muay-Thai fighter said, looking slightly confused.

"Very well then," Elder said with a grave nod, "we will not react to the presence of this unfortunate child at this time. We will keep our senses sharp and observe her. Should a situation with her involved deteriorate, then we will step in, at least until our disciple has learned conviction of his beliefs and has increased in skill."

Everyone nodded. It had been decided. Hopefully it wouldn't come around and bite them in the ass.

"About that," Akisame interrupted, his eyes gleaming with an idea, "I have a suggestion. Sakaki, you mentioned that you had a job lined up..."

The meeting of the masters broke up an hour later, the fate of their disciple decided.

In a small room in the dojo, an unconscious Kenichi shivered violently in fear.

* * *

_Karan-koron. Karan-koron_.

The sound of geta on stone. A sound that unique to Japan and many of the generation thought back to when they heard that sound more frequently, mourning the passing of those simpler days. Nowadays, with the evolution of modern society, it was barely ever heard any more. Modern values and thoughts infringing on the traditions of yesteryear.

Not that the wearer of those wooden shoes honestly cared. The footwear had been strange to him at first, never having heard of wooden shoes outside of the famed clogs of the Dutch in school, but he had tried them out of curiosity once and had found them rather comfortable, if strange. A few months later, and he had almost forgotten what it was like to wear boots or more 'normal' shoes.

At least until he decided to attend Koryo High School.

Green eyes narrowed as he walked through the early evening crowds. Strangely enough, as the young man dressed in black strode towards his destination, the other pedestrians seemed to ignore him, shifting aside unconsciously as he walked through the crowd, creating a empty path for him alone.

He may have hidden in the 'normal' world when he needed to dodge the Hunters and whatever flunky his former homeland (if he could even call it that. A home was supposed to be a place of safety. Despite being on the run, he was safer now than he had been in any place in the British Isles.) sent out to capture/eliminate him, but this was the first time he had attended a non-magically inclined school in almost five years.

It had been difficult to get into the school, but neither he nor Hana were fools or stupid. During a few times when they had had sanctuary for a long enough time, he had split himself between catching up with his non-magical education and searching for the elusive objects that he sought.

If he had been his old self, catching up would have been a far more onerous task, no thanks to the Dursley's conditioning. He still remembered the belting he had received from the elder two when his report card had out done their little Dudders. But with his new self, concepts that he had barely been able to grasp back in primary had become understandable, and he had practically bull dodged his way through the curriculum, with his little beloved right by his side.

Thankfully, it had been enough to get him in the school, with a little gold paid to the correct people, a nice little gathering of thrill seeking hackers, so that he had a complete existence in this delightful country.

He smirked slightly as he glided through an arguing pair of delinquents, going straight through them without them even noticing. _Lord what fools these mortals be_, he chuckled to himself, green eyes gleaming behind his shock of raven black hair.

There were still a few loose ends to take care of before he could believe that this little town would be completely safe from intrusion by certain parties, but it was looking like it would be very suitable.

Coming to the end of a street, he halted and looked up into the sky, the sea of humanity flowing around him like a river around a stone, chatting and moving as if unaware of his existence, finding the correct floor of the small apartment complex that he and Hana had resided in for a brief time but would now move out of, his purchase of an ample estate having gone through that morning.

But he would have to retrieve their small amount of belongings first.

Bending his knees slightly, he tensed his body, the teeth of his geta digging into the hard surface of the walking path, green eyes locked on the balcony that was a part of his domicile.

Then, in a movement that was inhuman, he sprang.

Upwards and forwards he soared, a bird that needed no wings to fly, the speed of his rise snapping the tail of his haori violently, a serpent of cloth wreathing the leaping figure. He reached the apex of his arc, far above the building, before he fell to towards the earth, a bird of prey stooping into a dive for it's next meal. He grinned as the wind whistled in his ears, his heart thumping in exhilaration. This was freedom, the air itself his only opponent and constant companion.

His eyes latched onto his target, the railing of the balcony, as he fell. His eyes measured the distance, ready for the right time to act.

30 metres.

15.

10.

He leaned forward at little as he fell feet first, bending his knees, ready to land.

5.

2.

_1_.

He grinned as his feet touched the railing before he _pushed_ extremely lightly, making him seem to glide over the railing on the balcony proper, and took a few more brisk steps into the open door of the apartment without breaking stride.

The entire manoeuvre, performed with the ease of stepping down a set of stairs and just as much thought, was beyond the ability of any human he knew of, maybe even humanity period.

Just as well he wasn't human any longer. At least not completely.

He moved toward the inside door of the apartment, passing the small dining table and kitchen, hanging up his haori on a small coat rack even as it's dark colour blended into the darkness of the apartment,the moonlight illuminating the large white circle on the center of it's back, the sigil within it standing out starkly.

He glided soundlessly towards the small bathroom in the one bedroom apartment, silence and darkness wreathing him like a friend or a lover as he moved. He needed to wash up a little, not much, but enough that he could greet his beloved without her wrinkling her nose at him when she arrived.

While the afternoon hadn't been _too_ strenuous, it had been rather complex. Veritable mountains of forms and contracts had needed to be signed, by his own hand, in order to finalise the sale of the complex he had noticed was for sale.

Not opulent and needing a few touch ups, it was one of the larger land plots one could find in Japan, a country where space was at a premium to say the least, which had lowered the price a little but it was still enormously expensive.

Thankfully, price wasn't an issue for him. Heaven's praise his ancestors, goblin greed and ingenuity and a _very_ stupid Ministry.

It was on the outskirts of the town, bordering a small forest that was part of the property, making it perfectly private and well away from any possible victims of collateral damage. Their nearest neighbours were about a kilometre and several parks away.

A perfect place to lay down roots, a base from which he could launch his search. A place to blend in, which he could fortify and allow him the space to grow stronger, learn more and become better without any nosy fool stumbling across them and accidentally spreading the word of their existence to all and sundry.

He and Hana had learned that lesson well enough in Germany. Bloody Teutonic tenacity. The Germans had been like dogs with a bone when they had found out he was in their lands, barely giving he and his companion a moments rest once they had sniffed out his trail. All because of one lucky drunk non-magical that had stumbled across him in a rather unique situation and had spilled his guts in the nearest pub.

He really didn't want to go there again any time soon.

Having washed his face, he looked into the mirror above the porcelain sink, looking at himself.

He was taller than he had been, his magic having worked it's...well, _magic_, in order to repair the damage done to him in his preteen years from lack of nutrients and other assorted maladies. His firm and toned muscles, flexing beneath the tight clothing he wore, but not bulging or bristling, showed his dedication to the arts of battle. His were muscles made to be _**used**_, not to show off like a mere parlour trick or like a body builder for the Mr. Universe contest. His skin was now slightly darker, no longer the pale, bordering on unhealthy, shade of white it had been.

His face had possibly changed the most in his opinion over the last few years on the move, barely recognising himself. His old and cracked glasses were long gone, no longer necessary, leaving his burning green eyes on full display. His forehead, which had once bore his most recognisable feature, was now free of the deep scar that had been the bane of his existence, the constant headaches it had caused, so frequently as to be unnoticed by him, vanishing with it.

His face now generally bore a small secretive smile, his eyes laughing slightly as they hinted at the hidden knowledge within, instead of the dour and long suffering expression he had in his earlier years, not thanks to the Dursleys, Dumbledore and the vast majority of the sheep of the Wizarding World.

For a moment as he stared at the green orbs reflected within the mirror, he imagined an image of his old self standing beside him. Scrawny, short and pale, in ragged jeans and too large shirt, with cracked glasses and a perpetual frown wrinkling his scarred brow, nervously fingering roughly a foot of holly wood, compared to the tall, muscularly toned male with a burning emerald gaze, a small sincere smile and an unblemished forehead dressed in comfortable, but presentable, clothing of a more unique nature. Black hakama and a tightly fitting kimono with black haori and a pair of two toothed geta. It was a far cry from his old wear and was most certainly not a traditional British set of clothing.

But he liked it, finding it comfortable and unrestraining, something that was very important to someone who needed to be ready to fight at any moment. Not to mention it blended in with the local culture after a few odd looks, when he let down his Veil anyway.

He finished washing up and strode back out to the balcony, looking over the city skyline as he leant against the railing, a soft breeze brushing against as the sound of the city drifted to his ears. The light of the full moon cast a silver mist over the bustling little town, a busy night for all it seemed.

He reached out gently, towards the silvery orb high above, as if to pluck that silver plum from tree of void and stars. A breeze blew stronger, more powerful, a sound similar to fluttering wings reaching his ears.

_Snatch!_

His grasping hand snapped shut, closing itself on the pale white object that had drifted on the wind. Wind that he had controlled and cajoled, making it carry the small slip of paper. A glance at it revealed a name, address and phone number, all written in the graceful hand of his most precious person.

"Right on time," Hakimaru said softly to himself, a small grin of accomplishment on his face, as he observed the little slip of paper that Hana had let 'drift into the wind' some time before, 'miraculously' catching it on the other side of town from where it was released.

Being able to 'weave' the wind had it's perks.

He thrust it in the inner pocket of his kimono, deciding he would deal with it later.

With his sharp ears, he heard the soft click of the door, the silent tread of footsteps, as someone entered the small apartment.

He had other, more important business to attend to. Infinitely more pleasurable and desirable than to do business with certain long-lived felines.

His green eyes never left skyline as he felt her approach, her scent of pure snow and feathers drifting to his nose as she clasped him around the waist from behind, resting her face and rubbing it between his shoulder blades, a gesture of comfort and innocent seduction.

"I'm surprised," he said softly, his eyes narrowing in delight as his partner rubbed against him, letting his muscles loosen and unclench. There was no need to be cautious around her, to remain on guard constantly. He trusted her implicitly, "I would have thought it would have taken you longer to return here."

Her soft breath tickled the back of his neck, making him shiver, clamping down on the desire to spin around and bring her into his embrace and devour her.

Romantically, that is.

"I dislike being separated from you," she gave as an answer, an excuse and a reason, "even if it is necessary, I do not like being away from you. And I will hasten to your side as swiftly as possible whenever we are."

He nodded understandingly. As she was, despite what her detached and cold public demeanour seemed to indicate, a passionate and demonstrative person by nature. Circumstances, however, many of the completely unique and without precedence, had forced her to hide that part of her, to keep it under control, while in public.  
He frowned slightly in remembrance. The first few months after the Change, especially after several of his parent's murderer's lackeys had come a calling, seeing a chance to revenge their master's defeat, had been taxing in that respect. After all, despite now having the shape of one, how can you expect an owl to have the sensibilities, morales or even understanding of a raised human. She had been very demonstratively affectionate then, not understanding that human culture and custom limited such showings in public.

There had even been a few close shaves with the constables in regards to public indecency and other related charges due to her actions.

Thankfully, or not, depending on one's perspective, she had been a relatively fast learner. She had to be. The way she carried herself and acted had been a like a flower attracting bees. In this case, the bees had been aggressive and wanted nothing more than their heads on a pike for the so called 'monstrous slaughter of upstanding citizens of the Wizarding World'. Read 'upstanding citizens of the Wizarding World' as 'pure bloods with very deep pockets and inverse proportioned morale values that weren't afraid to grease palms, thick and heavy.'

Hakimaru retrospectively just called it 'saving his own ass and taking out the trash all at once.'

Those early days had been more than a little harrowing. Untrained, new to his body, with little in the way of outside knowledge and resources.

_Vulnerable_.

The entire deck of fate seemed stacked against him. Hana, at that point in time, had been closely dependent on him, still was in fact, though in a different way, lacking even the simplest and most commonly known social graces. When she was seen in public, often her antics at the time had drawn attention, which had then drawn the Hunters like blood in the water to a shark.

Those bloody days had sickened him, the loss of lives he had been forced to take due to their greed and stupidity and his own desire for freedom and survival being heavy, but it had hardened him, making him see reality for what it was, removing the rose-tinted glasses that had obscured his eyes ever since he had stepped foot in the Wizarding World. It had made him stronger.

Once they had managed to cross the Channel (his belief in the seeming inborn stupidity of the Ministry rising as they had failed to take into account that there were _muggle_ ways to cross the water. Praise The Lord for sending him stupid enemies.) He and the former owl turned humanoid had gained a little breathing room. Not much, but enough for him to get ahold of himself and get his familiar and only friend on the same page.

Out of desperation, he had tried to initiate a Transfer, not even knowing what it was at the time, just hoping that the miracle that had happened once could happen again. It was a knowledge based one, trying to make the former owl understand the human condition, forcing thoughts, knowledge and understanding to the former avian, so that she could blend in and not keep giving them away. Thankfully, it had worked and had, over time, refined herself into what she was now.

And he couldn't be happier. To him, she was **_Perfect_**.

Silk and steel, soft and hard, fire and ice. A living contradiction.

And he wouldn't change her from what she was now for all the gold in the world.

Sighing softly and smiling, he pushed himself off of the railing, the wind stirring briskly and hearing the soundless footstep of his partner as she stepped back a moment before he did, her awareness of him and his actions hyper-attuned, able to predict his actions and know his own thoughts before he could even shape them himself.  
"Come," he said softly, turning to stare down into those golden orbs he loved so much, extending a hand to her, even as the haori he favoured wearing glided out of the doors, fluttering in the carrying breeze, to rest itself over his shoulders. "Our new home awaits us."

Hana didn't hesitate, locking her own hand with his, a soft smile on her face. Skin met skin and with it, mind met mind.

Hakimaru felt the soft nudging of her thoughts amongst his own, felt the bond between them bind tighter, become stronger. Feelings that were his, yet not, rolled through him. Desire, friendship, a fierce protectiveness, trust and loyalty. The smooth but deep heat of lust also spiked, touching his own core.

This bond was the reason he was still alive, albeit changed. For all the troubles that were caused by the aftermath of this bond, he would not trade them back for an instant.

Wind rose around the both of them, lifting them gently into the air, away from the now abandoned apartment. They had no belongings to take, all of the having been stored away, awaiting a time for a true home to be found.

That time was now.

Hakimaru smiled gently down at his lover and friend, the light of the moon casting his skin a hard silver, a flashing blade in the moonlight, getting a smile in return, her orbs golden as ever. He drew her into his arms, holding her firmly, yet gently, savouring the emotions that echoed deep within him as they travelled to and fro across the bond, melding and merging with his own. They hovered there, a couple dancing in the moonlight, love in their hearts and eyes for the other.

Taking a deep breath, Hakimaru sent his thoughts towards his destination. It was time to leave this hollow place. A true home, one that would stand for years if necessary, awaited them.

The wind surged, almost roaring beside him, engulfing him, before it suddenly began pushing them west, towards the outskirts of this fair town. Never letting go of his beloved, the couple rocketed soundlessly through the night air, travelling like this almost common place enough that commenting on it was not needed.

It took only moments for them to vanish into the distance, leaving an empty apartment, a bustling street filled with the ever oblivious tide of humanity below and a lingering breeze.

It was a new time for them, and they were going to make the best of it that they could.

Until the day came that they could reach the stars, a lone island in a sea of blackness. A sanctuary and home for the outcast and the accursed, for his own eventual family that he desired to have when the time came.

But that would not be for a long time, the journey had barely begun, the search was not yet completed. Allies were needed and resources required. But as he and his paramour whipped through the air towards their new found home, Hakimaru swore, to the very depths of his being, that he would find that Scroll, would claim that Spear.

Then, only then, would he rest easy, knowing that whatever family he had, friends he trusted and allies he swore to, would be safe. Until that day came, the only way he could protect what was his, was to do it the old fashioned way.

The sweat of his brow streaming down a laboured face.

The blood of his enemies staining the land red as it dripped from his weapon.

In order to preserve his life, and that of his beloved's first and foremost, it was necessary to take it.

Kill, or be killed. Attack, in order to defend. Wrought death, in order to preserve life.

A warrior's code, a warrior's life.

Such is the way of the world.

* * *

"_Are you positive, boy?_" A voice growled over the phone that Niijima held to his ear, "_the Black Wing is truly here?"_

"Does it sound like I'm joking?!" The high school student demanded, affronted, "he matched the description given by the rumours. Black hair, green eyes and the scent of feather and scale, accompanied by a girl with white hair and golden eyes," Haruo closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the weight of the man's power that he had exuded in the classroom. It stronger than anything he had ever felt before, and he had met some powerful and nasty beings in his short life so far.

An unfortunate hazard of being a hanyou, especially one from a youkai of ill-repute.

"_That is troubling,_" the voice over the phone mused. Niijima completely agreed. With _that_ guy in town, nothing was certain except that trouble will come knocking, sooner or later.

Niijima was hoping for the higher side of 'later'.

"_What did he want?_" The other asked, curious and inquiring.

"Not much," Haruo admitted with a sigh, "just the low down on the area, the big cheeses that reside here and just some general knowledge. At least, that was all I was asked by that scary golden woman that follows him."

And wasn't that a surprise. When the guy, someone that Niijima knew to be as deadly as they came, someone to be treated with all the respect he would give Weak Leg's nutso masters, had walked into the classroom, the Demon had gone as pale as a ghost, with damn good reason. The stories he had heard about him, the blood soaked fields he had left behind, hammered into his thoughts as he saw the unmistakable figure of the known fugitive from Britain, Harry James Potter aka The Black Wing Lord aka The Lord of Pandemonium.

The rap sheet he had, according to the British Ministry of Magic, known through out the magical world as one of the most backward, hidebound and outright corrupt governments among the magicals, was almost a yard long. Damn impressive considering he was only a teenager. Fifteen, to be precise, if his information was correct, which made it even stranger to see the vaunted fugitive to be in a grade a year older than he was, in Japan of all places no less.

It was the last place he expected to run into the former wizard.

That said, as infamous as the man himself was, his constant companion, as noted by various reports cleared for public consumption, was just as just as unknown. Little was known about her. Where she came from, who she really was, everything.

It was like she had just sprung into existence.

Despite her lack of origins, there were still a few stories about this beautiful (even the Demon had to admit she was this. Beautiful, but deadly. A rose with bloody thorns. A femme fatale supreme...A bit like his mother if he was honest.) woman that had him leery and had been the driving point behind his attempt to flee from her, before he was halted in tracks and trapped by each of the pair.

Seriously, he may have been willing to jump out the window to escape her, even if it was just for a few moments, long enough for him to pull a disappearing act, but he wasn't willing to dive into the tiger's jaws just to escape the lion's claws. Which is exactly what he would have been doing, if he continued his leap, due to the presence of the Black Wing Lord, calmly sitting beneath a tree, smirking slightly at him, with a questioning eyebrow, even as a spiral of air writhed and twisted above a relaxed palm, challenging him to try and escape.

Niijima had wisely decided to deal with the golden-eyed woman instead. There was no way he was willing to throw down against someone who was reputed to able to summon small localised hurricanes strong enough to strip flesh from bone if he was pissed off enough.

He liked his life, thank you very much.

So he dealt with the woman, someone/something (he wasn't sure which was more appropriate. All he knew, was what she _definitely_ wasn't human. Not completely anyway.) that had her own reputation of being able to cut through crystal...

With her bare hands.

This rumour had come about two years ago, a story of a wily Hunter (the bounty hunters of the Wizarding World, but with more of a dead rather than alive policy, who made their gold through Hunting, a job that involved acquisition of magical animals and ingredients for clients, removal of dangerous beasts (by whatever means necessary), testing security of various magical establishments and, finally, the tracking and either, depending on the target, the capture or death of wanted international felons of the Wizarding World.) who had managed to get his grubby little paws on a high grade focus gem, a precious stone used to amplify magical effects or anchor a spell or ward, something that would normally cost more than the average man's salary.

For ten years.

The gem was then used by the cunning fellow to create an inverted ward, one that kept things in rather than keeping things out. His plan was to somehow lure the criminal known as The Black Wing Lord into the area and make him pass through the ward, making him enter the magical cage unknowingly, thus trapping him and making the young teen unable to get out, leaving him easy pickings for the wily Hunter to take pot shots at the teen, who was confined in an invisible cage and limited in his movements and his magic unable to leave the perimeter of the ward.

It would have been like shooting fish in a barrel.

It was easy enough to find good bait, being part of the Hunter's guild, he had known that The Black Wing Lord was searching for old documents, ones that focused on the origin of magical empires, for whatever reason. Atlantis, Mu, Lemuria, Avalon and others like it.

Spreading a little word on the street of his last known whereabouts and, not a fortnight later, voila! The grubby bastard had hit the jackpot when he was contacted by The Lord in secret, willing to arrange a meeting in order to purchase the document he was reported to have had.

Long story short, the meeting was set and The Lord and his companion had walked into the trap, the Hunter's precautions and hiding spells, ones that veiled his trap from detection, had paid off. Leaving The Lord trapped.

Or, at least, it should have.

One of the downsides of creating a ward is that the anchor, the gem, had to be within it's confines in order to keep it stable and empowered, like a spider in the middle of it's web or a sun radiating it's light, thus creating a weakness that could be exploited by those who were within it. If they could find an destroy that anchor point, they would be free and the ward destroyed. To counter that, Wardcrafters, be they human, goblin and otherwise, always laid thick protective spells over the anchor (hiding, reinforcement and others) and used more than one, often dozens if the property they were warding was large enough.

Hogwarts was known to have in excess of a hundred of such anchors, the true number not known to any except the Headmaster.

The wily fellow had covered that, burying the stone a foot deep in the soil and casting a few hiding spells at it, keyed to the captured teen, rendering him almost unable to sense it.

It was a clever move.

The Hunter had obviously heard of the rumours about his quarry. To be more specific, the rumoured ability to either shrug off or be completely unaffected by spells thrown at him, making him even more of a nightmare to wizardkind. Considering that majority of Wizarding combat, in Europe anyway, was focused on directly applying curses, jinxes, hexes and charms to the target foe, this rendered them more than a little helpless, save for the few who could actually think outside the box.

This particular hiding spell, however, didn't affect the Potter scion _directly_, but rather made it unseen and undetectable to a specific magical signature, to the point that if, by some miracle, that the target did manage to strike the object with a spell, it wouldn't be affected at all. It was an almost perfect defence against a singular opponent.

Almost.

It wasn't a perfect spell, requiring a hefty amount of power to use, and could only be used on an inanimate and non-living object and could only be keyed to one signature at a time. In addition, not just any object could have this spell applied to it. Due to the amount of magic required to cast it, embedding itself in the object's structure, the object needed to be very robust. Cloth, armour, leather, wood or metal couldn't handle the strain. Stone and gems were pretty much the only thing that could do so. This made it a circumstantial spell at best and terrible for battle between numerous forces.

Either way, the trap had worked, trapping both The Lord and his female companion in a small invisible magic box, even as the fellow had reputedly sauntered up, a grin on his face. He thought he had all the cards, the deck stacked in his favour and his was about to pull trumps for the _coup de grace._

Unfortunately, for him, he had forgotten to take into account one small thing.

The Lord was not alone.

The gem may have been hidden and untouchable to Harry James Potter, the spell specifically keyed to him as the Hunter, in his arrogance, thought he was the biggest threat, the only threat.

He was wrong.

As the twit had gloated, casting spell after spell into the warded area, both of it's occupants dodging the spells by the skin of their teeth or, in the Potter boy's case, clashing his blade against the spells, parrying them away, he made a mistake.

Too focused on his captured prey, focusing on shooting them down with spells designed to crush, to maim, to kill, he forgot where the stone he had hid was and, by sheer chance, one of the spells that was reflected by the black sword with a shining silver edge that was being wielded by the boy, struck the earth above it, revealing it to the view of a surprised female companion.

By all reports into the aftermath, a clearing turned a furrowed crater and completely sterilised of life and magic, leaving only the barest hint of red dust (the last remains of the focus gem), indicated that the gem had been cut through, rupturing it's stability and causing it to explode, destroying whatever, and whosever, magic was linked to it.

It hadn't been cut through with a sword though, much to the investigator's surprise. The cut, despite being supernaturally clean, something thought to be an impossible act without magic (Niijima now knew different. Damn broken Masters.), showed no residue of metal or magic that a weapon of that caliber would leave behind.

Impossibly, the smallest amount of residue was something similar to keratin, something found in fingernails.

And talons.

The final verdict given by the magical coroner was that the fist sized ruby, specially grown to such a size by secret magical methods not known outside of the goblin race and, perhaps a few others, had been struck or slashed at with the fingernails of the female companion of the fugitive known as The Black Wing Lord, thus, despite the impossibility of it, cutting through the gem stone like a knife through butter, resulting in a failure of the ward, who's disrupted energy then rebounded on it's creator, causing his magical core to rupture and explode at the same time the gemstone also explosively released it's stored energy due to it's destruction.

_That_ little revelation had caused the Ministry and other interested parties a few sleepless nights. A young lady, of indeterminate species, having the capability to literally claw her way through solid gemstone, with, at the time, still further abilities that were unseen and in the company of a powerful former wizard turned an entirely new species with a chip on his shoulder and the will to kill.

It was the stuff of nightmares for those government flunkies.

Either way, he had dealt with her easily. Despite what the propaganda of the wizards said, and that he had believed in at first, she wasn't completely consumed in bloodlust and didn't desire to do nothing more than to rip his skull from his head and consume the brains for breakfast. She was quite firm in her position but was flexible enough to make deals in return for getting everything that she needed.

Deals that Niijima had plans for.

It wasn't everyday that a pair of warriors of their caliber ended up practically falling into someone's lap, after all.

Of course, in order to bring those plans into fruition, he had give something in return to her. A powerful resource. A sword stronger than the greatest of steel. A crown more powerful than an emperor of the world. And something the dangerous pair lacked at that point in time.

Information.

The most precious of resources. Strength was nothing if you didn't when, where and how to apply. They had needed knowledge of the surrounding area, the who's who and what's what, and had, after some bargaining, offered him a retainer, something to keep his services available to them and a unspoken understanding that he would look out for their interests because of it.

Which is what lead him to his current conversation with one of the local head honchos amongst the magical community, The head of a small, but old and respected, clan of nekomata, informing her of the arrival of the the two fugitives and their stay to stay within this fair city.

Technically, the clan head, a beautiful specimen of a senri, a long lived mountain cat that had obtained a large amount of magical power along with the gift to shapeshift into a beautiful woman, had no official power in this sector, considered to be a family head and little more on paper and on the surface, in the mundane world. But there is always hidden world, the world of secrets, darkness, magic and mystery.

There, in this small town, she ruled.

Part of this was because of the nature of the Japanese Wizarding Government, or, to put it better, the _lack_ of it.

The Japanese Magical Community, consisting of the various sentient magical beings like the tengu, nekomata and oni, along with their human counterparts in the miko, houshi, yamabushi and onmyouji, had never truly been under the yoke of the Wizarding World.

Hell, their own ruling body had refused to be a part of the ICW, nodding their heads only to the Emperor.

Most of Asia was also the same. Wherever the touch of Western culture waned, so too were the manipulative hands of the Wizarding world cut off.

Japan didn't officially follow the Statute of Secrecy, that was a Western convention. But they did have their own laws regarding the hiding of the mystical world, but the laws were very relaxed, to a point. Japan, despite it's modernisation, still retained a deep spirituality and belief in the Otherworld that was rarely, if ever, seen in the countries under the influence of the West.

Because of this, the suppressive attitude of wizards towards non-human magical beings did not really have much of a foothold compared to Britain and the other European countries, thus allowing for a very diverse community.

With all the hazards and advantages contained therein.

With the sheer _variety_ of magical beings with the land of Wakoku, a term that many of the elder of the various sentient species still used, both native and not, there was bound to be some friction. Age old enemies of various races, the naga and Garuda, the vampires and werewolves, crossed paths in this welcoming land, leading to bloodshed when it did unless other circumstances intervened.

On the flip side, it also gave the small Asian island nation, and others that followed their 'live and let live' policy, a healthy export and import business, trading in wares that would rarely be seen, if ever, outside of small hidden communes in the far reaches of the world where man was unable to go and make their mark or subjugate the resident people, human or not.

The magical government, such as it was, took a hands off approach to legal disputes and laws, relying on the heads of the various species and social factions to police their own. The government really only cared about three things.

Trade, making sure the tariffs and taxes and other various financial matters were handled.

Secrecy, ensuring that those who didn't know about the Otherworld never found out about it unless circumstances permitted. Usually through adoption into a clan, transforming into a magical being, marriage or various other ways. Part of this also meant keeping the magicals from exploiting the mundane and unknowing. Though deals between the mystical and the secular do exist between individuals and are permitted.

Finally, Borders. No one enters the ancient land of Yamato without the knowledge of the Emperor's court. The laws regarding entry were fairly low, but what few there are, were enforced vigorously. The main one was declaring oneself to the state, informing them that one was entering. The only reason they would deny entry would be if the person had committed crimes against Japan or have taken actions so atrocious and heinous as to be taboo. In addition, magical Japan had no extradition treaty, meaning the government would not step in and send them back if a known criminal of another country was in their own. As long as they weren't causing any trouble, they were welcome.

Needless to say, Japan made for a great country for those of 'creature' persuasion, be it so called Light or Dark, to live in. As long as they paid their taxes and kept the disturbances on the down low, they could pretty much live as they chose.

It was an interesting way to run the Otherworld to say the least.

Japan was quite happy with the way things went in regards to life in the Otherworld and they had no desire to 'rock the boat' as it were, and the Emperor was quite firm with any outsider that tried to do so, which made the disdainful, and often annoyed, prejudiced and hidebound European countries force themselves to swallow their pride and back off.

The wonders of having an Onmyoji battalion at one's beck and call in order to beat some manners into unruly and unwelcome guests. No matter how powerful, in whatever form it took, they were.

In either case, it made Japan a safe haven for those who were chased and hounded unjustly. Something that Niijima was almost certain could be applied to the dangerous duo now in the district. The Brits were never the most trustworthy and ranked near, or even at, the top in regards to corruption and prejudice and avarice, rotting like a cesspool in their Ministry.

He would have to look up the details of that debacle again sometime soon. Ignorance was most certainly not bliss when it came to those two.

But that was for a later time, he still had things to hash out with the sultry feline.

"_So little?_" Said feline asked, musing softly. No doubt she found it hard to believe that such an infamous pair of fugitives had asked for such a small thing. It would have been relatively easy for them to find out for themselves, given a few days. A few pointed questions, open eyes and their own reputations would have seen it happen.

"It surprised me too," he admitted with a slight frown, unnoticed over the phone they were using to communicate, "the woman, who's name is Hana Yosamu by the way, indicated that they would probably be setting up shop here on a more permanent basis rather than just making a safe house, relaxing for a time, and then moving on."

Niijima was gratified to hear the old feline take a sharp breath in surprise, not that he could blame her, he had done the same when he had been first informed of the pair's true intentions. The two of them had one hell of a reputation, together and apart, of always being on the move, one step ahead of whatever idiot decided to crawl out of the woodwork and try their dumb hands at taking them down, for one reason or another.

Bloodshed was always the result.

"_Intriguing_," the old cat purred in interest. Knowing the old cat, she was thinking of the possibilities that this could bring. "_I take it you have directed them my way, young serpent_," she stated, half questioned and half demanded.

Niijima winced slightly at the slight prod the damned catwoman had at his heritage before ignoring it and continuing, "As per usual, yes, I have done so." He said in agreement. The old cat was the force in _this_ little slice of Japan. She was the unofficial leader of the Otherworld in the district and had accrued enough power over her centuries of life to enforce it. By consent of the other Otherworld denizens living in this claimed area, all matters pertaining to the Otherworld were to be brought to her, post haste, and she would not tolerate anything else.

She was the big fish in this pond.

"_Goooood, goooood_," she cooed and purred down the line, sounding more sultry than anything else, as if her blood was heating up with desire and lust.

Bloody oversexed cats, they can't keep their clothes on or their paws off. The Demonic Alien just _knew_ that the blasted cat's attraction towards the powerful, male or female, would get her in trouble.

And you honestly didn't get much stronger than the Black Wing Lord.

"You should expect either a call or visit tomorrow," Niijima went on, a tired look on his face as he swept a hand over it. Yomi below it had been a long, and scary, day, "I gave them your name, number and address. It should be enough to get ahold of you."

"_Quite_," she chuckled softly, almost smirking down the line. Smug feline. "_I eagerly await his presence. Such a renowned personage as he should be greeted with all the respect, and honour, that he deserves,_" a giggling sigh, like a lovestruck schoolgirl, was heard. Niijima mentally groaned in exasperation. "_My kin have encountered him before and have nothing but good things to say about him. Apparently, he is quite the dish. One that I could whole-heartedly **devour**._" The last word came out as a twisted growl, a hunter's snarl of feral hunger and delight.

Great, the old cat was reverting to type. Maybe he should look into purchasing a few body bags and a book on how to conceal corpses.

"I wouldn't suggest it," he warned, vaguely hoping that his advice would not fall on deaf ears, "he is not someone to mess with, not at that level. I have no doubt he would shrug off your wiles before proceeding to tear you apart. And if, by some fluke of a chance, you managed to draw him in, his partner would see through it and tear you apart instead."

Niijima shivered in remembrance of Hana's words.

'_No one but **He** touches me.'_

Niijima shivered again. Messing with her on that part was just assisted suicide.

"_Fufufufufu_," chuckled the old feline, amused, "_d_o you doubt me so much, little water snake?" Niijima clenched the hand set tightly, his facial features distorting for a moment in anger, before recovering. He really needed to get a hold of himself. Despite her actions, she had meant no malice in the remark, only truth.

Then again, sometimes, the truth hurts worse than any deception, any lie. Cuts deeper than any blade.

"_I am not so foolish as to try_," the senri continued, "_I know of the youngster's reputation and power. I agree, wholeheartedly, that he is not one to trifle with. I will instead be content with a simple arrangement, a deal, that could benefit both of us. I fear if I tried anything else, such as attempting ikigimo*, it would most certainly backfire_," a melodious chuckle filled with a grim amusement followed, "_why, he may just instead devour me rather than I devour him, the hunter becoming the prey. Irony at it's finest, don't you think?"_

Niijima shivered again. This damned woman always ended up giving him the chills. Her way of thinking was so far removed from humanity it was almost ridiculous. The fact that she was humanoid at all, despite her species seeing them as prey, was almost a cosmic joke.

He didn't really feel like laughing.

Luckily, he didn't have to fear for his new business partners. The cat was old and wise enough to know when to pull her fangs and sheath her claws. They, and in particular the Pandemonium Lord, were beings to wary of. Normal ploys that she used to exert her power and will wouldn't work and Niijima could only laugh inwardly at the possible result of an ikigimo rite performed by the old cat against the Black Wing Lord.

Backfire indeed.

"Just be ready to meet him and his partner on the morrow," he said tiredly, it had been a long day and talking to the damned catwoman always left his nerves feeling like that had been hammered flat with a baseball bat, dull and lethargic, wanting to slip into the land of dreams to escape the dull, lifeless emptiness that wore him down.

"_I eagerly await such a meeting_," Haruo could hear the returned grin in the old cat's voice, veiling her morbid humour, "_hopefully it will be soon. I am quite curious as to the true nature of a man, a former wizard no less, that has made the world tremble in his footsteps."_

_Click! Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!_

Niijima sighed in relief as he hung up his own phone, thankful that the call had ended.

"Finally," he breathed quietly to himself.

That damn she-cat knew exactly how to get on his nerves. He was her favourite target of her games, the small pranks she pulled for her own amusement, and that looked it wasn't going to change anytime soon.

Though, with the event of the Potter Lord's arrival and subsequent desire to tie himself to an area rather than endlessly wander, her attentions would probably be more focused on the 'new kid in town' enough to ignore him for a while in order to focus on the undoubtedly coming meeting, compliments of his gift of information to the former wizard. Something that he could appreciate.

Especially if it meant no longer waking up to a banana cream pie in the face every Wednesday morning.

...!?

Niijima's eyes snapped toward his window, looking out into the city, his eyes narrowing, their pupils becoming slits as his body reacted to the stimuli. He could feel scales growing beneath his clothes, covering him in their armour, as his nails lengthened, becoming harder, sharper, more durable, more like claws. His muscles tensed and bulged, then relaxed and shrank, by turns, coiled and ready to spring at a moments notice.

All of these happened in a split second, lingering for a moment, before fading and disappearing as he relaxed completely, knowing that he was not in danger. Whatever he had felt, whatever that invisible wave of dark and wild power was, it was nowhere near him at the moment, nor was it focused on him.

_It was no threat_, he told himself. _It is too far away to even think about seriously. It was no threat._

As he went to bed that night, those were the words that he held onto tightly, believing them. But a part of his mind, his primal instincts that warned of danger, niggled at him as he rested, disturbing his slumber, continuously reliving that sudden burst of immense power. Power that was orders of magnitude above his own. His own instincts of fight or flight triggered just by feeling it, even if it wasn't aimed at him, such was it's strength.

Finally mastering himself, pushing his thoughts down into the embrace of Morpheus, the night and darkness engulfing him, he began to drift off, his mind silent now. Before true sleep took him, he had a flicker of a thought, a last strand of curiosity.

_Who had been the one to unleash the hellish might of power? And why?_

* * *

The night air stirred vigorously as Hakimaru, also known as Harry Potter, and Hana, who once was the owl Hedwig, alighted gently from the crisp air they had rode onto the hard stone steps that stood before a large red torii gate that was the entrance to a large shrine. One that Hakimaru knew was in a degree of disrepair and had bought for a song.

Well, in comparison to what a normal home with the amount of land this had anyway.

Hana frowned slightly at the gate, no doubt noting it's tarnished, faded and disheveled appearance even in the darkness. Such was no obstacle for a former owl.

"This is our new home?" She questioned, raising a brow at him, as if unable to understand his reasons for such a move. Probably readying herself to launch into a lecture about wasting money.

She was quite the frugal monger for a former owl who didn't even understand the concept of currency not even three years ago.

"It's not as bad as it looks," he tried to reassure her, she hadn't even seen the rest of the establishment, only the worn torii gate and the cracked, broken and weathered stairs that were bordered by a wild and uncontrolled stand of trees on both sides.

...  
Okay, maybe she had a point.

"Wait until you see the rest before you judge, at least," he requested weakly, his shoulders slumping under disapproving golden gaze.

She sniffed and calmly strode through the large gate, ignoring his presence.

Wasn't he supposed to be the master?

He quickly caught up before she took the first step up the stairs, her heels clicking against the aged stone path even as his own geta clacked.

"It really is a good choice for a home," he insisted as they climbed the stairs, "granted, it is a bit worn down, but that can be fixed easily enough. Replace some of the doors, a bit of landscaping and few other odd jobs, and it will be fine and perfect for our needs. It's spacious, private and out of the way, perfect for a magical family to set up shop and keep themselves hidden from the mundane folk."

Hana still refused to respond to him, just concentrating on ensuring that the heels of her shoes were not caught in the cracks and crevices in the stone steps as they climbed. Hakimaru wisely fell silent then, focusing on the steps himself, not wanting the wooden teeth of his footwear to be caught either.

It was only a matter of moments before they reached the top and saw the state of the rest of the shrine.

In the eyes of Hakimaru, it wasn't so bad. The stone path was well worn and slightly moss covered with a few cracks. The fountain and stone lanterns were still good, if looking a bit battered and old, easily fixed. The Kagura-den, from what he saw with his sharp eyes, needed only a few replacement roof and a tidy up. The Administrative Office, which was, in the past, the residence of the shrine's priest, was in a much better state in comparison. Clean, tidy, polished and modern. A perfect home if you disregard the long, uncut, grass and generally unkempt grounds.

The Haiden and Honden, however, were in a terrible state of disrepair.

The Haiden had a collapsed roof, damp and ancient wood splintered and broken, exposed to the cold night air as the wind whistled through the gaping holes in it's structure. The original paint, once bright, was now faded into an almost unrecognisable morass, the elements and time doing a more thorough job than any demolitionist. All in all, the Haiden was a write off, probably needing complete replacing and rebuilding from the ground up.

But that was nothing in comparison to the Honden, placed on a small hill behind the Haiden, making it visible despite the collapsed structure in front of it.

The Honden, in a normal and traditional shrine, was supposed to be the home of the resident kami, the place where it lived and dwelled on the mortal plane. In short, it was the most sacred part, and the focus, of entire shrine. It was considered to be holy and sacrosanct, only the priests or monks or Mikos could enter it, and that was only to perform rituals.

But there was nothing remotely holy about what the pair felt from the building, despite it's almost immaculate appearance.

Hakimaru could practically see a dark miasma, despair and pain and agony flowing within it, veiling the building, a shield of pure malice and hate that corrupted the very earth beneath it. Around the building, grass refused to grow, the land was barren, and not even the single hint of life, whether it be worm or bug or even bacteria, could sensed within it's aura. Just looking at it caused Kurogane to feel nauseous, old memories best left forgotten trying to rise to the surface, to swamp him in their pain and agony and rage, to drown him in despair and hopelessness. If he had still been Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Saviour, Hero, wizard, human, he wouldn't have a had a chance, his spirit would have been crushed beneath the force of the negative vibes or aura the Honden gave off.

But he was no longer that person.

He was now Hakimaru Kurogane, Lord of Pandemonium, The Black Wing Lord, criminal, fugitive, leader, ruler, warrior, slayer, killer, monster, beast.

**_Demon_**.

Forged and tempered in the crucible of pain, honed sharp in battle, he was stronger, more powerful, than he ever could have been had he stayed as the reclusive fool he had been.

_Betrayals of trust have a way of changing you_, he thoughtfully supposed.

Either way, he did not run, nor did he falter, in the face of this miasma of diabolical and satanic intent.

It fact, it was one of the reasons he had chosen this place for a home.

Or at least, the source of the miasma was.

"Such a horrid presence," whispered Hana, her golden eyes slightly wide in surprise as she noticed the powerful aura within the Honden, one that seemed now to be stirring, as if previously asleep and now slowly awakening, as if scenting something delicious on the night wind, something that could satiate it's hunger.

"This shrine was abandoned roughly twenty years ago," Hakimaru spoke calmly, his emerald eyes watchful upon the Honden and the seething miasma he could feel, "apparently, thirty-five years ago, the priest who worked here was killed on the grounds. Quite gruesomely actually. The offender was never caught. He was replaced by a Miko, who was murdered a year later, again on the grounds. Lather, rinse, repeat for a decade and a half, until the point that no one was willing to accept the post. The government then declared it no longer a shrine and put the plot up for sale. Because of the reputation it had, no one was willing to buy it to live in, despite the government converting the administration building into a residential home and a relatively cheap offer. Some bloke in the States had a shot at it, thinking of developing a hotel or something on it. He was dead the next night, torn apart in the hotel he was staying at when he came to finalise the deal. The reputation grew worse, to the point that no worker was willing to step a foot near the temple buildings, only carrying out what was needed on the home and then running like the hounds of hell were on their heels. I practically got it for a song, the government was more than willing to get it off their hands."

Rumbling growls were heard, as the Honden seemed to quiver, it's wooden construction shivering and quaking beneath the deep bass sounds of it's occupant, the doors creaking and groaning as they were slowly shiver open by a massive three fingered hand, the skin of it a soft blue, bordering sapphire.

"And I think we are about to meet the cause of such terrible events," Hakimaru said, his eyes gleaming and slitting, his instincts awakening in the presence of someone, something, he deemed a foe.

Beside him, Hana also readied herself, her eyes sharpening and her body tensed, even as the air around her seemed to crackle, the scent of ozone surrounding her, as a counterpoint to his own smoky darkness that flowed off him, like ink mixing with water, as it hit the air.

_Thud! Thud!_

A hunched shape stomped out of the Honden, revealing it's face to them beneath the light of the moon, dragging an immense club in the hand that didn't clutch the from of the door.

Soft blue skin, long, unruly and shaggy black hair, semi-hiding within it two massive horns, polished and sharp enough to reflect the silver light of the night. Beady red eyes that glowed like embers, looking at them both with hunger as it licked it's black lips with a long tongue, it's protruding four inch fangs gleaming.

"**Who dares enter?**" It growled, deep and booming, a voice that could shake the earth itself, as it stepped out of the Honden, standing straight to it's full height.

Thick limbs corded with muscle thicker than a concrete pillar twitched and tensed beneath it's blue hide, supporting it's barrel chested torso that was just as muscular, a blue wall that would scare the life out of any normal warrior who would foolishly dare to face it. It stood upright, and was humanoid, impossibly taller than the Honden it had just emerged from. It seemed to be male if the proportions were correct, though a tiger striped loin-cloth hid any complete proof from view, much to Hakimaru's gratitude.

Hakimaru knew of this being, or at least it's species. It was hard not to, it's infamy in Japan being second to none.

"We do, Oni," he responded, calm but ready, his inky black aura at the ready. There was only a slim hope of ending this confrontation without bloodshed, one that was dwindling fast.

At his side, Hana was ready, her arms and and legs ready to pounce and strike.

"**Then prepare to die!**" The oni snarled, leaping higher and further than a being of that apparent mass had any right to, soaring over the Haiden and falling toward them, swinging it's massive club, a kanabo, toward them as it did.

Hakimaru and Hana leapt away in opposite directions, even as the massive ogre like being landed firmly, cratering the stone laid path with it's feet, even as the earth exploded when the blow from the club struck, missing them.

_Right_, Hakimaru thought, his eyes burning with the power he summoned from the depths of his soul, inky black cloud-like flames wreathing him without any heat, _time to dance._

* * *

Ikari-doji snarled angrily as he missed his new prey.

He had declared this shrine as his home, and all within it's confines were his to devour at his leisure. Priests and Mikos, fools and famed, children of the West and East, all were his when they set foot on his home.

The fools in the New Capital had tried to sell off this place, giving it to others, something he would not allow. The Western child had died an agonizing death, his limbs strewn around the room of his current domicile.

He had been dormant for quite some time now, resting and reposing as his prey had vanished, no longer setting foot on his soil. The labourers were too filled with fear, never lingering long enough for his magic to be able to track them once they had left.

Now others had walked into his home, sheep offering themselves to the wolves.

His keen ears heard the crackling in the air to his right, the scent of burning air hitting his nostrils. Something he had occasionally encountered when the great storms visited this world.

The sky-flame, the star-light, the judgement of the kami.

He leapt back as lightning struck where he had been previously, scorching the earth.

Landing he then quickly charged the user of the sky's power with a roar, his magic speeding his advance towards the golden-eyed female who smelt of feathers. Those who wield the power of thunder and lightning were often more dangerous than most, it made sense to take out that one before moving on to the other.

He grinned ferally as he saw the slightly shocked face of the female. His prey never expected him to be as fast as he was. It was one of his greatest tricks. A trump card that had seen him survive through fights that would have ended others of his kind.

His club swung for her, seeking to end her life and have her flesh to devour. Particularly her liver.

Any user of the sky-flame simply _had_ to have power in abundance. Power that Ikari-doji was more than willing to acquire for himself.

She dodged quickly, swaying away from the blow, only to quickly hop backward, avoid the massive three-fingered paw he swung towards her. Her snarled as his clawed hands missed. He went to swing the club again...

_Slam!_

Ikari-doji felt like he was hit by one of his own kind, a much stronger one, as strike slammed into his, just below the ribs, throwing him away from the girl and sending him airborne.

He landed heavily, rolling slightly, before his instincts had him halting his momentum and scrambling to his feet, still clutching his kanabo. He had learned quickly that prey off their feet were vulnerable to the predator long ago.

He had no desire to become prey himself.

He heard the air whistle, something cutting through it, and blindly swung his weapon toward the sound, confident that his strength could at least deflect the blow, giving him more time to recover.

_CLANG!_ **BOOOOOM!**

The sound of metal meeting metal reverberated through the night air, the air trembling like thunder, the shockwave tearing earth and stone and grass from it's place and flinging it into the air.

The oni grunted in extertion, his red embered eyes narrowing, as his massive arm, thicker than a tree trunk, holding his kanabo, which rivalled his own body in size and thickness, struggled to hold back the, in comparison, slim ebony coloured blade that the male he had seen forced toward him.

With a single hand.

This was impossible! The oni raged, bracing his other arm in the long grass and turf to hold back the deadly sword. He was oni! A species stronger in physical might beyond all other! Not even the dragons of the West, large and proud, were able to shift one of his kin!

And this human pup did it with only a single hand!

And the worse thing was, he couldn't do anything about it!

It was taking all he had, all the strength his muscles and magic could provide him, even with his other arm bracing against the ground, to hold back the sword. What other magic he could perform would be of no help. Decreasing his size would only decrease his strength, making susceptible to being crushed by this fake human. He couldn't use his speed. He had no leverage in which he could use to fly. Invisibility wouldn't work either in a contest of strength.

It was infuriating.

He was being bested by a mere pup!

"You're quite strong," the insolent pup commented, making him growl, sliding backwards along the ground, his hand tearing furrows in the earth, as the pup leaned forward, putting more pressure into the weapon lock, "but I've fought stronger."

The last comment was the only warning the oni had before, with sudden application of immense power, the sword bit into his weapon, carving almost halfway through the thick metal bludgeon.

The rest of the power, however, transferred through his defending weapon into him, thrusting him backwards, sending him tumbling once more, like a simple doll, now bereft of his weapon.

Angered, Ikari-doji snarled, deep and hateful, his magic responding to his emotions and exploding off him, lifting him into the sky, now in control of his movement. He floated snarling hatefully down at the land bound human, if he was even that. Though he was beginning to suspect that there was more to this human than met the eye. He was too strong, too fast, too skilled, to be one of those foppish stick users. Mayhap he was one of the Guardians of the Son of Heaven? He had faced one of those before, a century ago, and had barely escaped with his life.

He blinked suddenly, his eyes snapping around quickly. Where was the female?!

_CRACKA-**BOOM**!_

He screamed as a bolt of thunder struck him square in the back, his body feeling like it was on fire and was trying to jerk itself apart, a puppet with tangled strings, arching his body as he rode the spear tip of Kami's judgement until it planted him face down in the earth, dust and dirt flung everywhere from the resulting crater.

He snarled deeply, his instincts screaming at him to stand up, to move, that he was vulnerable, but his body refused to comply, the bolt of lightning the female had used disrupting it's functions. Even his magic was scrambled, slipping from his grasp every time he tried to use it. He was a sitting duck.

But damned if he, Ikari-doji, the Wrathbringer, went out without a fight!

By sheer force of will, he managed to heave himself to his hands and knees, supporting himself but unable to go further as his muscles twitched erratically. That lightning bitch had done more damage than he thought.

His hearing picked up the clacking of wood on stone, slowly and calmly approaching him, completely nonchalant. No haste or hurrying, just calm confidence, a walk towards a helpless enemy.

The oni never hated anything more.

He twisted his neck towards the source, fighting the scrambling effects of the bitch's attack.

His ember red eyes deepened to a blood crimson, burning with hellfire and hatred, as he saw the figure of the male walk toward him, a smile on his face, as if he was greeting a friend.

"My, my," he sing-songed as he planted the tip of his blade in the earth and leaned forward on it, looking directly up into the oni's face, who even now, on his hands and knees, towered over the sword wielding human, "it seems you are in a spot of bother."

The oni snarled lowly. The bastard was mocking him!

"**I will k-kill you.**" He snarled, stuttering slightly as his nerves twitched due the bitch's lightning strike. He could feel her approaching from behind, walking calmly around him to stand at the male's side, her face impassive but a gleam of satisfaction, of pride in a job well done, in her golden eyes, along with a hint of disdain as she looked at him, as if he wasn't worth her time.

Fucking bitch.

"A hollow threat," responded the male, amused, "I have shown you that I am stronger, my dearest partner," the male's hand stretched out to caress the face of the female, making her lean into the touch, like dog being petted by it's master, "has shown her worth, rendering you helpless, thus proving herself stronger than you. Even if you recovered your full strength in this moment, either one of us, alone, could put you down and destroy you utterly in the next."

The oni snarled again, wishing desperately for his hands to wrap around the bastard's throat so he could choke the life from him, to see that vital spark drain away from his eyes.

They didn't.

"You have killed many people since you came to this shrine, oni," the male continued, his face no longer amused. They were stony and implacable, a force of nature staring down the horned demon, "none of them were able to defend themselves, nor did they try to cause you harm, but you still killed them. For fun, for pleasure. To satiate your diseased heart with the blood of carnage, pain and fear."

"**So what?**" The oni growled. He could use his tongue perfectly now, even if the rest of his limbs were sluggish or unresponsive. This gave him a little hope. If he could just buy himself a little time...

"**They were only humans,**" he spat, "**there are plenty more where they came from."**

The oni snarled inwardly. Humans. Disgusting creatures. Weak and foolish and stupid. The only reason they had the power they did was through their sheer numbers. He was doing the world a service! Taking away the chaff, devouring it, and making himself, a primal being, a higher species, stronger. That was the human's lot in life. Their collective weakness stripped them of any rights they had.

_Jaku niku kyō shoku**_.

It was the simple truth of the world.

"Perhaps there are," the male noted, his emerald eyes not once leaving the burning orbs of the helpless oni.

Or so he thought.

Ikari-doji could feel his hand and legs come back, the power of the bitch's strike beginning to fade. He could move now, if he wanted, but he bided his time, keeping his limbs as limp as they had been.

He really wanted the bastard dead, by his hands.

"I am not fond of humans, as a whole, myself. Not anymore," the bastard continued, "but I find it easier to ignore them. Much easier than littering the street with crimson liquids and gobbets of flesh with every step I take."

"**Weakling**," the oni sneered, hiding the fact that his body was now ready to move, even if it was still in pain.

He just needed the right moment...

!

The oni abruptly collapsed, his face meeting the dirt, as he felt like a massive weight had settled on his back, crushing him into the earth. He growled lightly, damning the male, as he twisted his face toward the male, to let his burning eyes glare his hatred at the human...

And then froze.

His eyes halted in their tracks, the sight he beheld freezing him solid.

For the first time in years, Ikari-doji felt fear.

He could now feel the true power of the male, his terrified mind unable to comprehend it's true amount as the make stopped hiding his power. He was a strong oni, he knew that, and was able to understand the power of some of the strongest beings in the land.

But his power was a mere drop of water compared to the ocean of the male's. The male's, because he was certainly no longer human, no man had that much power, not even the Emperor himself, power wreathed him, a veil of inky darkness that swirled and flowed chaotically, yet smoothly, a river over stones, hiding most of his body from view.

Except for those piercing eyes. Those emerald orbs of power and death.

He could only watch as those unflinching orbs locked with his own, staring him down as if he was nothing, a speck of dust floating by, unworthy of notice. He couldn't move, he couldn't even _breathe_.

_Shiiiiing_!

The long curved sword, the one that the _enemymonsterdemongod_ had used to fend of his weapon, was torn from the earth as the monster pulled it out. It's gleaming black point, also wreathed in the inky dark power of it's master, was then rested directly in the middle of his sweating forehead, splitting the skin even with just that light touch, purple ichor flowing from the almost non-existent wound.

No. No. Nononononono!

"If I'm a weakling," the male purred darkly, menace and power rippling in his voice, twisting and distorting it, "what does that make you?"

_Splitch_!

Ikari-Doji's eyes glazed over, his sight rapidly fading into eternal darkness, as the hilt guard of the sword met his forehead, the blade of it now buried deep within his brain from the thrust of the weapon.

He could feel his conciousness, his spirit, his soul, separating from the meat puppet it had inhabited and descend toward the gloomy darkness of rotting Yomi, the Underworld. He welcomed that, a chance to get away from that _Monster_.

His spirit could almost taste the endless decay within Yomi when it abruptly halted, now longer descending towards the depths of death itself. He struggled vainly, reaching for that comforting abyss, a second life amongst darkness and rot, anywhere was better than being in the presence of his slayer.

He felt as if his spirit was caught between two sides, Yomi and the Land of Reeds treating his soul as the rope in a tug of war.

This was not natural.

His spirit screamed and cursed, spitting his fear and hatred toward the one he knew was the cause of his tearing soul.

He screamed louder, unheard, as he felt the power of his soul, his spiritual core, be dragged back toward the world of the living, even as his consciousness, his mind, his _individuality_, kept descending into Yomi.

Finally, his existence could no longer stand the strain, snapping under it, and sending his mind flying into the depths, to live in the depths of Yomi as less than nothing, a hollow voice on the fetid winds, unable to interact with even the residents that dwelt there.

For Ikari-doji, his life was over as his mind plunged screaming, agony and rage and pain filling his thoughts.

The wheel of karma had turned. His victims were now at rest.

His power, the strength he had earned over the years of his life, however, erupted back into the World.

They had a different fate awaiting them.

* * *

Hakimaru frowned slightly at the corpse of the massive ogre as his inky power erupted along the blade of the sword, devouring the flesh and power of the dead oni. The pommel stone, glowing a deep crimson red, pulsed like a heart full of blood.

He watched as the flesh began to flake and dry, impossibly quick, cracking to reveal the soft glow sapphire power mixed with torrents of his inky black power, mixing and churning beneath the now broken skin.

He watched as the desiccated husk of the oni turned to ash, falling away to reveal the seething power beneath. Bereft of it's driving force, the oni's mind and soul, it still somehow kept the form of the angry beast, a spiritual outline, a ghost, of the vicious oni, even as his as his own power, black as the abyss, began to overtake it, consume it.

A moment passed, and the spirit leavings of the ogre were completely engulfed in his power.

The spirit was now his. A soldier at his command.

A thought and the abyssal power, that came from the depths of his soul, reversed it's momentum. Sliding and flowing like a river in reverse toward him, the now night-coloured spirit flowing with it, running up the blade of the sword.

As the power ran up the blade of the sword, the spirit, or what was left of it, began to lose it's form, becoming a clouded mass of floating power, that the ebony blade, of a metal so dark that even the night seemed brighter, seemed to devour, to absorb into it, the gem on the pommel shining brightly, constantly.

Another moment and it was over. The power had dispersed, the soul power, the magic, of the oni also gone, and the night was now still.

"Haaaa," Hakimaru sighed softly, lifting his sword, a katana slightly longer than most, to rest the blunt side on his shoulder, "I'm glad that's over," he grimaced slightly, his free hand coming up to rub the shoulder of his sword arm as it twinged in slight pain. The oni had been stronger than it looked, and that was saying something, considering that it looked like it could have ripped a mountain from the earth and toss it. He had gotten a little cocky when he struck at the oni, he should have used two hands rather than a single one.

His hand was gently halted by the long, delicate looking, but deceptively powerful, fingered hands of his partner.

"As am I," Hana murmured, agreeing, as she gently began to massage the strained area, relieving it of the slight pain as she frowned slightly, "you were foolish," she admonished, "you should have killed him with the first blow," she glared around and the even more destroyed temples grounds. Craters, broken stones and much more coming under her ire filled gaze, no doubt angry at the increased the destruction and the hard work that would be needed to repair it.

The swordsman sheepishly nodded. He had hadn't meant for it to spin out as long as it had, but his blood cried out, driving him to fight, to dominate, to prove his superiority to the ugly beast.

Bloody Night-side. It's overconfidence is going to drive him to an early grave when it makes him bite off more than he could possibly chew.

Not something he wanted happening anytime soon.

He breathed deeply for a moment, relaxing into the soft massage his beloved was giving him beneath the light of the silvery moon, a joy almost unequaled in his opinion, and slowly let go of his still writhing power, letting his mind relax from the mindset of the warrior that he used when in battle, and let his more truthful self, his real self, come flooding back.

The cloud of power slowly vanished, seemingly dissipating into the ether, and the metaphysical weight his presence forced upon everything near him also began to ease, as if a great burden was lifted from their shoulders and minds. His eyes lost the slitted and fiercely feral look, the calmly confident student arising behind those emerald orbs instead.

His sword, a partner for many years and something he trusted to never fail him, also slowly began to vanish, returning to the ethereal plane from which he had summoned it, the light of the ruby stone pommel gleaming in a twisted version of joy, as if happy to have devoured the power of such a powerful oni, as if thrilled to fight and kill at it's master's side once more.

It had once been so different. A sword of courage and majesty, a champion's blade. A symbol of protection, a stalwart guardian of it's home.

But it had Changed, just as he had been Changed.

No longer did the sword belong to a knight, a hero, a saviour. No longer did it shine brightly, a lone silver light against the darkness.

Now it belonged to a warrior, a slayer, a killer, a demon. Now it devoured the light, gathering the darkness, in souls, in the shadows, real or metaphysical, to itself, an army of the slain marching under it's master's banner.

The sword had been unnamed, known only for it's first wielder.

Now it had identity, thought, emotions and a will. It now had a name.

Yoruno Sente. Thousand hands of the Night. The sword which contains an army of the slain, of ghosts, of spirits.

Hakimaru smiled as the sword dissipated. It was a greedy blade, always willing for more battle, more blood, more souls for it to hold within it's confines, but it would never waver in his hands, never fail him.

In this world, there were only three things he trusted absolutely.

Hana. His companion, his loyal friend and lover. Through thick and thin they had walked together, hardships and joys equally shared.

Himself. One cannot take a step along the path of life without confidence in themselves, without understanding that their own power is necessary to achieve their goals.

'_Might controls everything - and without strength, you cannot protect anything; let alone yourself_.'

It was something he completely agreed with, even if his old self, the almost broken and naive child, would not have.

Lastly, Yoruno Sente. With a bond between them that almost equalled the one he had with Hana, it had Changed just as he had done, cleaving them closer to the point that it was difficult to understand where the sword ended and he began.

He was warrior, and no other weapon best represents that than a blade, a sword.

"Done," he heard Hana whisper, bringing his mind back to himself, as she finished massaging the strained shoulder, her long fingers lingering on his flesh before withdrawing, leaving a vague disappointment at the loss behind.

Albeit, a warrior who still had enemies to fight, to match. Still had objectives to fulfill, obstacle to overcome.

He wasn't strong enough yet, maybe he never will be, but he would keep fighting, keep growing, keep searching, until his goal was within his grasp.

"What do you think now?" He asked his beloved.

He didn't need to expand on what he meant. Her thoughts were sometimes so close to his as to be same person in two bodies.

It had been more common in the beginning, when she was still new to the Change, when she had only just received her Humanity, when she had no other human to pattern herself after except his own experiences, his own beliefs.

Thankfully, that had passed, her own identity managing to emerge and develop.

She was unique as any human now. Even more so considering that she wasn't just human.

He watched as her golden orbs, that could be as warm as a comforting fire, cold as the winter winds, hard as steel or as fierce as a mother protecting her child, raked the compound again.

He could see and feel the differences the absence of the oni made on the area. He could hear the chirping of cicadas, where before they had been silent and absent, terrified of the oni's presence. The miasma and the terror filled atmosphere had vanished, it's master and origin dead, making the land feel more alive than it ever had for a long time. The grounds may be more beat up and destroyed, but it was a clean destruction, not something brought about by neglect and corruption.

"It will take time," she said, pursing her lips, before smiling slightly, "but I think it can make a serviceable home," her eyes looked at him, slightly sly, "provided that you _Big. Strong. Man._" She slightly mocked, poking his muscled abdomen with each word, making him frown at her. Did she really need to be so mocking? So he acted a bit macho and got an injured shoulder for it. It could have been a lot worse but he had measured his strength close enough that he didn't completely overestimate himself. "Are able to remember how to do all the repairs."

He looked at her, his eyes boggling. She expected him to repair all of this?!

Sure, he could most of it, his time in Durscatraz had ensured that, but there were a few things he hoped he could call a proper repairman in for. The newly formed craters, the now shattered stone pathway and the collapsed Haiden being the most notable.

But she wanted him to do all of it?!

He tried to protest, he was the Master here, dammit! What he said goes.

He quickly caught up with her when she began walking toward the residential home on the grounds, trying, and failing, to convince her that getting some workers in to fix the place would be better. He had just been a home labourer, not a professional tradesman, when he was at the Dursley's.

She had quickly shot down his argument with the reminder of the shrine's reputation, one that he had said had driven off any tradesmen who would otherwise be willing to work at this site, thus leaving him without even a leg to stand on.

Well, bugger.

The rest of the walk was in complete silence, a smug woman leading a drooping and depressed man toward their new home. The night breeze stirred around, whirling and twisting, making the haori that the man still wore snap and flap, the light of the moon catching on the symbol in the centre of the back of it.

A symbol that evoked terror to his foes, that heartened and rallied his allies to his banner.

A word that warned those who did not know him, that heralded the beginning of a new era, a new being.

To bar the way of the one who bore 'fear'...

Is to court death.

* * *

*Ikigimo- a practice among more malevolent magical beings of devouring the liver of an enemy, which was believed to be the seat of power, the core of a being's strength and where their souls resided within the body, allowing them to take the being's power for themselves. Is thought to have originated in China through the stories of those called demons devouring the livers of Sanzhang Monks, like in the famed novel of 'Journey to the West'. Has spread out amongst the majority of the more violent inclined magical beings in the East.

**Jaku niku kyō shoku- The weak are meat; the strong eat. Essentially means survival of the fittest or might makes right.

Well, folks. What did you think of this chapter? I know it was a bit long and a bit spun out, but I just needed to set the scene, a base from which to entangle the characters in my web of stories. I hope you enjoyed the small amount of action in Hakimaru's new home. it probably wasn't the best but I swear to try and improve as best I can.

Many of you will also notice the references to another manga/anime in the chaptter, this is deliberate. It was a good series and I think it has potential. It won't exactly be a crossover with said series, but I believe the power system it has could be applied within the other two (Kenichi and HP) with a few touches.

Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed it. Please leave reviews, they are what keeps me writing.

regards,  
kujikiri21


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